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Impatiently, he frowned and nodded in the other direction, down the hall of the new wing. “Rafe locked her in one of the empty rooms so Hunt might interrogate her.”

“I want to talk to her. May I?” She didn’t know precisely what she wanted to say, but she’d sort it out. She was too uneasy to let this go. Hunt might be satisfied with leaving any decisions to a court, but she wasn’t.

When Fletch seemed hesitant, she added, “If Ana Marie died because of me, I need to know the details, please. I can’t sleep with this.”

Rafe emerged from the study with Hunt. Fletch reluctantly flagged them down. At his request, both men looked equally dubious, but Kate glared at them without flinching or bowing her head. She was learning to stand up for herself.

Reluctantly, Hunt sorted through his keys. “We’ll stand outside and listen. I suppose I’d appreciate a little reassurance that we’re not releasing another lunatic into our midst.”

“Vivian’s delusion has probably not reached the extent of murder. Yet.” Grimly, Kate accompanied Fletch down the hall. The manor had so many underused rooms that two entire wings might be turned into a prison, as well as the cellars and the monks’ crypt.

Leaving Rafe and Hunt out of sight, Fletch guided Kate into the nearly empty room, crossed his arms, sling and all, and blocked the door with his considerable presence.

At their entrance, Viven glanced up in distress. Tears stained her cheeks, but she straightened and recovered enough to glare at Kate. “Have you come to be rid of me, once and for all?”

For a change, Kate was grateful that Fletch held his tongue. “I want to know about Ana Marie. I had a lovely cousin I never had a chance to know. How did she end up at the bottom of the stairs?”

Vivien collapsed into the room’s only chair, a wooden one that creaked ominously at her abrupt drop. She wept into her handkerchief. A dramatic performance indicating guilt?

But before Kate could speak, Vivien sobbed, “She was the mother I wish I’d had!”

Oh, dear. Kate cast a glance at Fletch, who grimaced but nodded encouragingly. She liked to believe he had faith in her, not that he was at a loss for words.

“She should have stayed home!” Vivien wiped angrily at her cheeks. “None of this would have happened if Mrs. Marie had stayed in her shop, where she belonged.”

“She gave the shop to her daughter.” Kate understood how Fletch felt. She had no words to make sense of this.

“That simpleton doesn’t have half my talent or even her mother’s.” Taking a deep breath, Vivien lifted her head to meet Kate’s eyes. “When Mrs. Marie followed me here, I was terrified she’d blame me for what Wilma did and have me put off. I worked too hard to have her take the place I’d earned with Miss Marlowe.”

Oh dear, this did not sound promising. “You stole her reference letter?” Kate suggested.

“I saw her letter on Miss Marlowe’s desk and panicked. Why would she write here except to expose me?” Vivien seemed almost indignant. “So I took the letter, and when I realized she was applying for a position, I sent it to Wilma to ask what I should do.”

“Wilma can read?” Fletch asked, reminding them he was listening.

Vivien instinctively straightened her shoulders and patted her hair for this male presence. “Enough to get by. I didn’t expect her to follow me here!”

“So you stole Ana Marie’s reference letter, sent it to Wilma, but Ana Marie showed up without waiting for a reply. You told her there was no opening, and instead of going home, Ana Marie didn’t believe you. She stayed anyway. And then your. . . sister. . . arrived?” Kate almost believed this tale. The parts fit. She didn’t know how to address the strange relationship between the women though.

“I hoped Mrs. Marie would go home, where she belongs,” Vivien wailed, caught up in her own woes and not noticing word choices. “She didn’t need to work.”

“What happened when Wilma arrived?” Fletch asked, not concealing his disgust.

Viv’s shoulders sagged again. “She had the reference letter and used it to get past the footman. I don’t know how she found Mrs. Marie, though. I suppose no one thought she looked out of place.”

Wilma did, indeed, look like all the other harmless sewing women. Caps covering their graying hair, black gowns in the same shapeless fashion, heads down. . . Once inside, she could have taken the service stairs easily, without anyone giving her a glance. Perhaps if more women looked up instead of down. . . They might be seen and not treated like furniture.

Vivien continued, her voice cracking in anguish. “When Wilma’s angry, she just. . . doesn’t think before she pushes. She once broke Henry’s arm when he climbed a fence she told him not to—because he might get hurt. We learned to stay out of her way. Only, if there was an argument, Mrs. Marie was not the sort to stand aside. Wilma was really angry with Mrs. Marie for putting her off. Mr. Morgan is a thief, not Wilma. That day she accused us of theft, Mrs. Marie wouldn’t listen. She simply locked Wilma out.”

Killing seemed like such a drastic solution, but to a lunatic. . . “You’re saying Wilma sneaked into the manor, found Ana Marie, argued, and just. . . pushed her down the stairs?” Kate wasn’t prepared to believe this any more than that they meant to kill her.

“I know you think Wilma tried to kill you that day.” Vivien wrung her handkerchief. “But she had only heard about you from Mr. Morgan. She didn’t know what you looked like. But she knew Mrs. Marie stood in her way and hated her for calling her a thief. But planning to push anyone. . . She never did anything like that before.”

That anyone knew of, Kate thought. She was learning to be suspicious.

“I’m sure she only intended to tell Mrs. Marie to go home.” Vivien’s voice dropped to a somber whisper. “At the time, I didn’t think anything of it when Wilma said she meant to apply for a seamstress position. We needed the money. I didn’t think. . . that she knew Mrs. Marie wouldn’t stand in her way.” She scrubbed at her eyes again.

“Wilma may only have meant to scare Mrs. Marie, or at the most, cripple her so she couldn’t work or tattle on the two of you,” Fletch suggested. “Unfortunately, the result is the same, I’m sorry.”