He could see the way Josiah smiled a little, trying to hide it, knowing full well what Francis was doing. The constable and the watchman exchanged glances again before turning back to Francis.
“No, the magistrate would not disagree with your word,” the constable said eventually.
“Then you have your answer,” Francis said with finality. “Louisa fired in self-defense and Lord Ridlington was a victim of his own wish to murder. Is that clear?”
“Abundantly so,” the constable said with a firm nod. “Thank you, Your Grace.” He pointed his head to the watchman, ordering him to write down some more notes.
Silence descended for a minute, the only sound being the pencil that scratched on the paper. Francis felt a small elbow in the side of his stomach and turned to see Josiah was staring at him, trying to communicate something soundlessly.
“What?” Francis mouthed the word. Josiah gestured back across the room, toward where Phoebe was sat, hanging her head. She looked pale with her brown curls hanging around her ears. The innkeeper had provided a blanket to throw around her shoulders to help her modesty, but nothing seemed to matter to her right now. She was in shock.
Francis nodded at Josiah, showing he understood.
“With Lord Ridlington’s passing, Lady Ridlington will take possession of her home again. They have no children, and I understand he has no siblings either. The property will be hers; do you have any objection to her reclaiming the property tomorrow?” he asked, deciding it was best to get to the point.
“No objection,” the constable said hurriedly. “We will inform the magistrate at once of what has happened and the news will be delivered to London in the coming day. Lord Ridlington’s body will be taken back to the city for burial too.”
“Thank you,” Francis said, nodding a little.
“Your Grace?” A small voice called his attention from across the room. He turned to see Louisa standing from her seat, with Phoebe doing her best to pull her back down, but she wouldn’t be moved. Louisa stood a little taller, her body stiff and tears on her cheeks. “Will I be arrested?”
Francis smiled as gently as he could, seeing the fear in her face.
“No, Louisa, you will not,” he said, watching as her lips parted in amazement. “The constable agrees it was self-defense and there is no point at all in seeing a court for it. You did the right thing, Louisa.”
Her tears came more heavily as she capitulated back down to the chair. Phoebe wrapped her arms around her friend, keeping her tight into her side as Diana moved to the same settee and placed a hand on Louisa’s shoulder in comfort.
“What of my father?” Phoebe asked, addressing her question to Francis. He glanced toward the constable before crossing the room toward her, needing to answer her without the room watching on as a kind of audience.
She was peering around Louisa’s shoulder as he reached her side.
“He will be arrested, Phoebe,” he said softly. “For assault and attempted kidnap.”
She nodded though she bit her lip, holding back more tears.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly.
“He never liked me,” she whispered into the air. “He hated me because I took my mother away from him. She died in childbirth. After that…he became a bitter man.”
He reached out to her, needing touch. She reached out too, and their hands connected in the air, clinging onto each other.
“He will not come for you again, Phoebe. He will be charged for trying to help Lord Ridlington.” His words seemed to bring her some comfort, though she bit her lip all the more, holding back tears. “You’re safe now. You’re a free woman.”
“Free?” she said as one tear escaped down her cheek. “I never thought such a day would come.”
Chapter 30
Phoebe was numb as she watched the coffin being lowered into the ground. She had insisted that she attended the funeral alone, with only Louisa as her company, yet she felt strangely lonely there without Francis, or Lord and Lady Dodge nearby.
“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” the vicar said as the coffin reached the bottom of the earth that had been dug out for Graham’s grave.
The grave attendant came round with a box of earth and proffered it to Phoebe first. With no other family left in the world, she was the only relation Graham had and the first who was supposed to grab the soil and throw it on his coffin in memorial. Yet she struggled to do it.
Louisa’s arm was linked with hers, and Louisa used that connection to subtly elbow Phoebe into action. With a trembling hand, she reached out and placed a hand into the box, grabbing hold of some soil in her palm. The grains dug into her skin, burying themselves in the lines of her palm before she threw it onto the coffin.
“Are you all right?” Louisa whispered to her as the box was passed around.
“I do not know,” Phoebe said quietly. She tried to wipe her palm clean on her skirt. “I cannot dance on his grave, Louisa,” she whispered as the vicar closed the final prayer of the funeral. “I could never delight in death.”
