“Can you describe everything that transpired? I hate to ask you to relive it, but I’d like to understand what happened here.”
“So would I.”
Anne told him all she remembered in as much detail as she could.
He considered, then said, “My only hesitation in supporting an inquest is that it may lead to an autopsy, and if evidence of opium poisoning is found, it would look very bad for you, Anne.”
“I have proof I didn’t do it.” Anne explained again the system she and Rosa had developed.
“That isn’t very solid evidence, I’m afraid. You might have simply refilled the bottle with something else. You have no shortage of medicines in that case of yours.”
“Oh. I had not thought of that. Nor did I do that.”
“I know. I don’t doubt you, but others might. If Lady Celia was given a lethal dose, do you have any idea who might have done it?”
“Well, I recently heard Mr. Dalby arguing with his aunt over money. She threatened to revise him out of her will. Again, I can’t prove it. But he certainly had a motive.”
The dressing room door inched open, and Rosa peeked out, gaze wary. Seeing it was only Anne and her uncle in the room, she hurried forward and enfolded Anne in a warm embrace. “How horrid this has been for you! I’m so sorry, Anne. I know you would never hurt her, no matter what Mr. Dalby said.”
“Thank you. You didn’t see or hear anyone in here with Lady Celia while I was out, did you?”
Rosa shook her head. “Do you think someone came in and poisoned her then?”
“I think it’s possible.”
“Who? Mr. Dalby?”
Anne hesitated. She did not want to give Rosa any more reasons to seek her own revenge, tomake the man suffer. So she only said again, “It’s possible.”
Rosa nodded. “After all, he was worried his aunt planned to change her will, and not in his favor. And I brought back a revised draft from her solicitor in Gloucester....”
“Which she planned to sign this afternoon,” Anne said. “With the curate and her cook-housekeeper here to act as witnesses.”
Anne glanced at the clock. “It will be four soon. Perhaps I had better go down and let Mrs. Pratt know her presence is no longer required.”
Dr. Finch said, “I will do that for you on my way out.”
“Thank you.” Anne turned back to Rosa. “You said you knew where the new will is?”
“I did. Though I’m not sure it’s still there.” Rosa turned as though to begin looking.
“Don’t!” her uncle warned. “We are not to disturb anything until after the coroner and his jury have seen the body in the place where she died.”
“Oh.” Rosa turned back.
He added, “If Lady Celia was poisoned, the person responsible is likely someone living here in Painswick Court. Yes, maybe even Mr. Dalby. Another reason to keep your distance from that man, Rosa. The sooner you leave this house, the better.”
“I can’t leave tonight. I have a few things to finish for Miss Fitzjohn, and then must settle the matter of my pay. But hopefully by tomorrow. Or the next day at the latest.”
“Then I suggest you lock your doors before you go to sleep tonight—the both of you.”
Anne retreated into her little room, part numb, part reeling. Had she been wrong? Her mounting suspicions causingher to see—and smell—things that weren’t there? Or was someone in Painswick Court a killer?
At the thought, a chill crept up her spine. Even though it was only late afternoon, she lost no time in following Dr. Finch’s advice. She still couldn’t lock her own doors, but she locked Lady Celia’s door and Sir Herbert’s as well. Assuming Rosa also followed her uncle’s advice and locked her outer door, they would both be safe.
Anne walked over to make sure Rosa had done so before returning to her own room.
Then she sat on the edge of the narrow bed, held her head in her hands, and wept. For Lady Celia, for Katherine, for her own mamma, and for herself. She tried to pray but could find no words beyond “O God, please let it not have been my fault.”
