The reality of the situation rushed at Eleanor, like a monstrous wave surging for the shore. A whimper escaped her lips. She shook her head again. “You can’t.” She gripped the edge of his coat. “Please, you can’t.”
“We found a letter Bannister’s murderer tried to destroy. It was written by your mother.” Frederick raised his hand to brush a lock of hair off her cheek.
She slapped his hand away, rage filling the void. She stepped back, jerking out of his grasp.
His fingers twitched before he lowered his hands. “Her mind is troubled, Eleanor. You know this. I need to ask if you have a pistol in the house.”
She tried to suck in a deep breath, but her lungs wouldn’t fully expand. Black dots swirled in front of her eyes. She looked over Frederick’s shoulder to the other agent. Frederick mentioning her mother’s mental troubles in front of another person seemed a bigger betrayal than his coming to arrest her somehow. She’d shared her fears about her mother’s mind in private. He couldn’t kiss each scratch and bruise her mother had given her, then come here to tear her life apart.
“Eleanor.” Frederick’s voice deepened. “Is there a pistol here, maybe one your father owned?”
“No.” She pressed her hand to her abdomen. Not anymore. It was still in Lady Mary’s box of lost items. “Why are you doing this?” She knew the answer, of course. He believed her mother guilty. She didn’t understand how he’d never spoken to her of these suspicions, not since they’d become intimate. How hecould just show up on her doorstep and take her mother from her?
Movement on the stairs drew all their attention. Mr. Grosse had obviously warned his mistress of what awaited. She was pale, her eyes unfocused, but her steps unerringly carried her forward.
Eleanor rushed to her and gripped her hand. It was cold and gave no answering squeeze. “Mother, we’ll sort this out. I’ll go with you. You won’t be alone.”
“That’s not possible.” Frederick tugged her back and nodded at his associate. The man stepped forward and took her mother’s shoulder, leading her to the door. “You can’t stay with her.”
His touch burned. She’d once craved it; now it made her sick.
“Simmons will take your mother. I’ll stay with you.”
“No.” Her shoulders slowly rolled back. The panic was ebbing, leaving a grim sort of determination. And rage. “I don’t want you here.”
He reached for her. “Eleanor….”
Side-stepping him, she went to her mother and held her tight. Her mother’s arms remained limp by her side. “Be strong. I’ll speak with Mr. Lake. He’ll know what to do.” Their family solicitor had been wise when protecting their newfound assets. Whether he knew anything about criminal law was another story, but she needed to believe he could help. She needed her mother to believe it.
“I’m not going to leave you like this, Eleanor.” Frederick raked his fingers through his hair. “You aren’t well. I understand, but I can—”
“I want you out of my house, Mr. Rollins.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. She felt like a vase that had been dropped. It hadn’t broken but cracks fanned its surface from the impact. Unless she held herself together, she was going to break, fall into pieces.
A muscle ticced in Frederick’s jaw. He looked almost as devastated as she felt, but she wouldn’t let herself care. This was his doing.
He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. When he opened them again, they were resigned. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
Safe? Frederick was arresting her mother for murder. The penalty for that was death.Safeno longer had a meaning. But she nodded. She needed him to leave. If he stayed, she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together.
Her mother left without a sound. When the door closed behind them, Eleanor and Mr. Grosse stood unmoving, and at least on her part, unthinking. The back of her mind raced with everything that needed to be done, but the front part was blissfully silent. She stared at the door, as though expecting it to open back up, her mother to come back through as though she’d only been out for a day of shopping.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
Mr. Grosse finally turned. “Miss?”
The expectation in his voice is what finally broke her. The realization that she was the one who would need to figure this out. Her father was dead, her mother arrested. There were no siblings. No uncles to call for aid. She was alone.
And she had no idea what to do.
Her lungs hammered in and out, her breaths harsh. She pressed her palm flat against the wall, praying she wouldn’t fall. No matter how much she wanted to, now was not the time to come apart. Her mother needed her. And if Eleanor didn’t know how to proceed, there was someone who might.
Decision made, she straightened from the wall. “Mr. Grosse, please tell the coachman to have the carriage brought round.”
*
Lady Mary barelylooked up from the ledgers on her desk. “Are you here to cancel your membership, as well?”
Eleanor stopped behind the guest chair in Lady Mary’s office, her hands gripping the backrest. “No. Unless we find the true killer, however, my mother will no longer be a member.” She swallowed, the back of her throat burning. “Fre—Mr. Rollins arrested her.”
