“No,” I whispered. “I can’t.”
Morrie plastered an expression of empathy on his face, and he shuffled another couple of inches closer, his legs oddly stiff.
“Daddy truly believes that he is Mr. Darcy, and that any young woman he encounters is his Elizabeth, and that all he has to do is wear them down until they agree to accept his love. That’s what he did to my mother. He wore her down and wed her in an unholy ceremony because he couldn’t bear to be without her. His selfish passion and his desire to return to the innocent love of his childhood poisoned her bones as surely as if he’d murdered her himself. I will never forgive him for that, nor for any of his more recent crimes. But it is of no consequence, for he is dead, and I am almost free.”
“How long have you known that your parents were… were siblings?” I whispered.
“I suspected something was wrong after Mummy died and Daddy had all these meetings at the hospital and then we didn’t have a lot of money for a few years. But I only knew the facts when I saw the records Professor Carmichael sent Alice a few weeks ago. Alice thought she was being so secretive, but when she suddenly started asking all these questions about Daddy, I hacked into her computer and found them. I knew she was going to write the article and ruin Daddy, and I had to kill him before that happened.”
“So you could be free?” Morrie asked, shuffling forward again. Something metal glinted behind his back.He’s got his sword shoved down the leg of his breeches. No wonder he’s moving so stiffly.
“Daddy hasn’t written a paper in years,” Christina said calmly. “I do the research. I write his keynotes. All day, every day, nothing but Jane, Jane, Jane, while he took the accolades and usedmywords to lure young women into his bed. The situation was intolerable. So I decided to improve my circumstances. Since he requires me to set out his pills every night, I stole away with some of his sleeping pills. One pill, once a week, so he would never notice. Then, I fed him the pills crushed in his tea before the ball, leaving him insensate in the chair. This done, I waited until almost all of the guests had entered the ballroom, and then David and I entered and took our seats.
“This done, I enjoyed the first course and a glass of wine before asking David to accompany me to the bathroom. Of course, he is so completely besotted and clueless that he didn’t realize where I had him wait was not in front of a bathroom at all, but a door to a servants’ passage that led between the kitchens and the anteroom. I stole along the passage, entered the anteroom, stabbed my father, opened the window, placed the scrap of fabric on the nail, and took away my jewelry.” She tugged up the gloves on her hands. “It was nothing to dispose of my gloves and dress into a recycling bin behind the kitchens and replace them with a matching set I’d hidden there earlier, before I returned to David and we resumed our place in the set.”
“A most ingenious plan,” Morrie mused. “I could not have done better.”
“Why did you write the note on our door?” I asked. “Were you trying to stop Lydia from becoming your father’s next victim?”
She laughed, the sound like broken glass tinkling. “Heavens, no. I was too far into my plan to be concerned with his next conquest. The note was not for Lydia, it was for you.”
“Why me?”
“Cynthia boasted of your intellect and your skill at solving mysteries the police could not solve. I realized that my crime scene wouldn’t just need to fool the police, it would have to fool you as well. I thought if you were frightened away, if might be to my advantage. It appears you’re either too stubborn or too stupid to take the hint.”
“It’s the first one, the stubborn one,” Morrie said, shuffling closer. I tensed, knowing he was planning something, but no idea what. “But why kill Alice, your own girlfriend? Why create a video where she confesses to Hathaway’s murder?”
“She was going to write the story about my father!” Christine screamed. “I begged her not to, but she said it had to be done. When she saw my father’s body, she guessed I might have done it, and then she found the jewels in my bag that night as she snuck into my room. So I told her I would kill her if she revealed the truth, and I made her film that video as assurance. But then I saw her lead Mina away from the orangery and I knew she was going to tell you the truth, so I killed her before she could do it. Don’t you understand, I had to kill her. She gave me no choice. The story would’ve been in all the papers, and they would come for me. I’d be hounded by the press and I would never, ever be free of my father’s evil and bloody Jane Austen. That’s all I want, and as soon as I deal withher—” she jabbed the tip of her sword at Professor Carmichael, who whimpered “—I will finally, truly be free.”
“What about us?” I asked weakly, my heart clattering against my chest.
“You? You three are something I didn’t count on.” Christina tapped her finger against her chin, in a gesture that reminded me a little of Morrie. “It’s your own fault, really. I did give you a warning, which you chose not to heed. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to allow you to live.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Christina, you don’t have to do this,” I pleaded. “If you tell your story, everyone will be on your side. You father was a horrible man, and what he did to you and your mother was wrong. You’re the victim here. Please, don’t become the villain.”
“Silly girl,” Christina grinned. “There are no villains in Jane Austen.” She swung around toward me, lunging forward, the blade of her sword pointing at my heart—
This is it. This is how I die.
Time slowed. Neon fireworks flashed in front of my eyes, and memories flickered through my mind; Heathcliff slamming me against the wall in the bathroom, his eyes looking at me with such wild need; Quoth lying beside me on my bed, our hearts beating in unison; Morrie saying the words, “I love you.”
The window shattered. Glass tinkled across the floor. A giant black bird flew at Christina, slamming into her chest and sending her reeling.
Quoth!
“About time, birdie!” Morrie cried. In one swift movement, he drew his sword from down his trousers and lunged at Christina.
Quoth’s entrance bought Professor Carmichael precious moments to dodge around Christina and flee to the door. Unfortunately, her fear overcame her, and she sank to her knees, frozen in place on the bed.
Christina grabbed Quoth by the neck, hauling him off her face and slamming him against the wall.
“Crooooo—” he bounced against the floor, shuddering to a stop and lying still and silent. My heart pounded in my ears.No, no, please. Not my precious Quoth.
Christina’s sword crashed against Morrie’s with practiced grace. They swung in a circle, both slashing and lunging at each other, matched in skill and malice. Morrie’s foot grazed Heathcliff’s sword and he kicked it across the room. Heathcliff grabbed the hilt, growling in triumph as he removed the blade and hurried to Morrie’s side.
They backed Christina against a wall, pushing her toward the corner of the room. Sweat dripped down her face as she met them, parry for parry, each of her moves becoming more wild and desperate. She swung at Morrie’s face, and I cried out as she slicing a thin cut along his cheek. He kicked out one of his long legs, trying to sweep her feet out from under her.
