“He agreed to the... encounter,” Charlotte said, her voice very tight. “But there was a dispute over the fee. The whore went into a rage and attacked him.”
“I think you and I both know that is not what happened,” Amity said quietly. “Virgil kidnapped me. I barely managed to escape. Yes, I did defend myself with a blade. He was bleeding badly when I left him behind in the carriage. He sought the help of the only doctor he knew, the one he could be certain would keep his secret. Dr. Norcott treated his injuries and then summoned you.”
Charlotte sank into the chair, appalled. “You know that much?”
“We found Norcott’s body earlier today,” Benedict said. “His throat had been sliced open with one of his own scalpels. Just like the throats of the victims of the Bridegroom. We suspect that Virgil’s wife died in a similar manner, although the exact nature of her injuries was masked by the fact that he threw her out a window.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, it was an accident.”
“Norcott is dead.” Benedict said. “Now Virgil has evidently gone into hiding—with Norcott’s medical kit, I might add.”
Charlotte composed herself. “It can’t have been Virgil. Don’t you understand? He is currently in a special clinic.”
“He is no longer at Cresswell Manor,” Amity said. “Two days ago he was released into the custody of his mother.”
Charlotte seemed to sink in on herself. She closed her eyes. “Dear heaven.”
“You know what he is,” Benedict said. “That is why you committed him to Cresswell Manor not once, but twice. Why did you take him out of that place this last time?”
A heavy silence descended. Amity wondered if Charlotte would ever respond. But eventually she stirred and looked at them with haunted eyes. A strange grayness enveloped her, as if life was slowly seeping away.
“It was the witch,” she said. “It must have been her. Why she took him away from Cresswell Manor, I cannot say. You must ask her.”
Amity exchanged glances with Benedict.
“Who is the witch?” Amity asked carefully.
For a moment it seemed that Charlotte would disappear into the grayness that surrounded her. But eventually she pulled herself together.
“Shortly after my husband died I discovered that for years he had been paying blackmail to a woman who operated an orphanage for girls,” Charlotte said. “She contacted me and made it clear that if I did not continue to pay she would see to it that certain matters were made public in the press.”
“What orphanage?” Benedict asked.
“Hawthorne Hall,” Charlotte said. “It is located in a village outside of London, about an hour away by train. At least that is the address I was given when I took over the blackmail payments. The Hall no longer serves as an orphanage, but the former director continues to live there.”
“What are the matters that you paid her to keep quiet?” Benedict asked.
“My husband fathered a child by another woman.”
Amity took a few steps closer to the desk. “Forgive me, Mrs. Warwick, but we all know that it is not rare for men of wealth and rank to father children outside marriage. Such situations are understandably embarrassing but hardly shocking. Most women in your position would turn a blind eye to the matter. Why would you pay blackmail to conceal the fact that your husband produced an out-of-wedlock child?”
Charlotte turned her gaze to the view of the garden, but Amity was quite certain she was looking into the past.
“The witch claimed that she had noticed evidence of mental instability in my husband’s daughter. She suggested that perhaps my son was also unhinged.”
“I see,” Amity said. “She threatened to take her theories about Virgil’s mental health to the press.”
“I may be deranged as well,” Charlotte said quietly. “Because I have spent a great deal of time imagining ways of murdering Mrs. Dunning.”
“I assume that she is the former director of the orphanage,” Amity said.
“Yes,” Charlotte said. “She is the one who is blackmailing me.”
“What stopped you?” Benedict asked.
Charlotte turned back to him. “At the start Dunning made it clear that if anything happened to her, she had made arrangements for letters suggesting insanity in the Warwick bloodline to be sent to the press. But a year ago it got worse. She let me know that those letters would contain evidence that my son had murdered his wife and a young lady, as well. She intended to announce to the world that Virgil was the Bridegroom.”
Benedict looked thoughtful. “Is your son aware that Dunning has been blackmailing you?”
