"Janine, speaking of Lord Havelock, I was wondering, when exactly did Dorothea Rustian, his cousin, disappear? Was it before or after his house burned down?"
"About a month afterward, why?"
"I was just curious if it had any bearing on his change in manner."
"I couldn't say. After the fire, he was unapproachable for a while, stoic, locked within himself. Then too, the family was in mourning, and his mother was being perfectly beastly. I believe he disappeared about the same time Dorothea did. He did not return to England until after the official mourning period for his father and brother was over."
The expression on Janine's face was so melancholy that Cecilia felt the lowest worm for bringing those memories out. "He does seem to be increasingly personable. Perhaps if he could be brought to rebuild Havelock Manor, it would lay to rest the remaining ghosts," Cecilia offered.
"But how to—"
"Excuse me, my lady," exclaimed Loudon, bursting into the room. His face was unnaturally pale, his eyes wide. "There's a man below, just come from Cheney House," he gulped and looked toward Cecilia. She rose unsteadily to her feet. "I'm sorry, ma'am, he says—he says Mr. Haukstrom's dead!"
Cecilia swayed at the bald pronouncement. Janine, a soft cry on her lips, rose to support her.
"How?" she whispered past dry lips.
Loudon looked miserable. "Hung himself, ma'am."
Cecilia moaned softly and did something she'd never actually done before. She fainted.
Cecilia opened her eyes to a sea of faces swimming above her. A sharp ammonia smell waved under her nose, mingled distastefully with the lavender water bathing her brow. Her eyes watered, and she coughed, batting at the helpful hands fluttering over her. She struggled to sit up. "Please, stop. I'm all right. Give me a moment," she said, her voice husky.
She cleared her throat and shook her head to dispel the last of the wooziness. She took stock of her surroundings. She was lying on the daybed hurriedly vacated by Lady Meriton. Loudon stood at the head, wringing his hands. Janine knelt beside her, a lavender-water wet handkerchief in her hand. Jessamine held the Sal volatile. Lady Amblethorp hovered behind her aunt, eyes bright and curious; beyond her, near the door, stood an array of servants openly staring. One man she did not recognize.
"You there, are you from Cheney House?" she asked weakly. Janine helped her to sit up against the pillows over the protests of her aunt and Lady Amblethorp.
"Yes, ma'am," said the fellow, nervously twisting his hat in his hand.
"Come here," she ordered, her voice stronger. The man hesitatingly approached her. She turned to look over her shoulder at Loudon. "A glass of brandy, please, and see that the rest of the company here disperses."
At her words there was a scurrying of feet by the door. She closed her eyes a moment to gather her thoughts and waited until Loudon brought the brandy. She took a healthy swallow to the others' dismay and surprise, then handed the glass to Janine. Somehow, the two of them had achieved a rapport. It was that hidden strength she once mentioned to Jessamine. She knew she could count on Janine to be of assistance. She hoped it would stand Janine in good stead should her suspicions concerning Lord Havelock prove true.
She looked at the man standing before her. "When and where?"
"Sometime last night, ma'am. A housemaid found him this morning. Screamed like a banshee she did, and we all come runnin'. He were dangling from the chandelier in the library, his face all black and mottled."
Gasps came from the others in the room. Lady Amblethorp muttered something. Lady Meriton snapped back at her. Cecilia ignored them. She raised an eyebrow, thinking. Haukstrom never went near that library of his own. She discovered that two nights ago. "I see. And have messages been sent yet to Baron Haukstrom or the duke?"
"No, ma'am. We didn't know what to do, 'cept cut him down and lay him out," he explained, plainly and painfully looking at her for advice.
She nodded. "Loudon, fetch pen and paper."
"Mama, I think it best we leave now," Janine said, rising to her feet.
Lady Amblethorp started to protest. She wanted to stay and hear all the sordid details.
Janine was unnaturally cool and firm. "Lady Meriton and Mrs. Waddley have much on their minds and much to do." She turned to Cecilia. "If there is anything I can do—"
Cecilia smiled up at the blossoming young woman. "I shall be sure to contact you. Thank you for your assistance and understanding."
Janine nodded, bid Lady Meriton goodbye, and escorted her mother from the room. On the steps they met Branstoke dashing inside. Lady Amblethorp made to turn back and follow him, but Janine forestalled her. "No, Mother, you shall have to be content knowing Sir James came hurrying to her side."
Lady Amblethorp looked mulish, but the calm, determined expression on her youngest daughter's face gave her pause. Meekly she allowed herself to be led away.
Branstoke entered the parlor to find Cecilia acting the general to her troops. She sat on the daybed using Lady Meriton's lap desk as a writing surface. Her pen flew across the paper while she issued orders to others in the room. He lounged against the door frame, his arms across his chest, appreciating her. She sanded another note, handing it to a man Branstoke didn't recognize.
"See that this gets to the duke immediately. Take Randolph's fastest horse."
