Every servant you now see is new, for none who knew him before would remain under his hand. He ordered a standing silence upon us. There was to be no mention of the past, no acknowledgment of those who left. He forced me to burn letters addressed to former servants. I watched him search rooms to ensure his commands were carried out.
“Disobedience, my lady, meant dismissal and character ruin. It happened more than once to the ruination of the individual concerned. It was wrong. It was not… English!”
His face reddened. His words sputtered from him like bubbling water from the spout of a boiling kettle. The words rang in Catherine’s ears, each syllable a strike against the fragile edifice of trust she had been building.
“No…” she whispered, shaking her head. “I know he was formal, cold at times, high-handed perhaps. But brutal? Cruel? Not the man I have come to know.”
Mr. McKay’s eyes softened. He opened the folder, looking at the contents as if trying to decide whether to show her or not.
“That is the danger, Your Grace. He hides his nature when it suits him. He must, in order to keep you near until his business with Sir Obadiah is secured.”
Her chest constricted. “How can I take your word alone?”
He took a sheet of paper from the folder and reversed it, laying it before her on the desk. Catherine recognized it instantly: the letter she had once begun to Isabella, the one that had been taken from her bureau.
Her hands trembled as she took it. “It was you!” she said accusingly.
“I found it before your husband could,” McKay said grimly. “Had he seen it, I fear for what his reaction might have been.”
Catherine’s breath faltered. A cold tide washed through her veins.
“What are you suggesting? That he would have hurt me to keep his secret?”
McKay nodded gravely. “It would not be the first time.”
“But what secret? Who is he?” Catherine demanded.
If Aaron had indeed ordered such silences, if he had indeed destroyed lives, then what was she to make of the tenderness he had shown her, the kindness she had seen at dinner, his sacrifice of pride for Jeremy’s sake?
I witnessed those things first-hand, and the latter will have a profound effect on Aaron directly. Unless every word was a lie, and he has no intention of making Jeremy a partner. But if that got out, Sir Obadiah, the honorable man he is, would end the arrangement, surely.
Her mind was whirling, as though being spun by the batting paws of a playful cat. Aaron was kind. Aaron was cruel. Aaron was telling the truth. Aaron was lying. All seemed plausible. All seemed possible. As if sensing her hesitation, McKay produced another item.
Catherine frowned for a moment, not connecting the object to anything real. Then her mind cleared. It was a small vial of a white, milky substance.
“There is more. I keep a supply of poppy juice to treat the pain I get in my knee. An old war wound. Yet my supply has dwindled faster than I can account for by my own personal use. I believe your husband dosed your drink, to keep you compliant.”
Catherine felt anger flare bright and hot within her.
“That… that cannot be! He went to great lengths to free me from its grip—”
“I understand, Your Grace, but that was only done because you were refusing to take the medicine. I cannot say for certain, but I believe he will have blamed another and then continued dosing you with the poppy juice while claiming he was curing you.”
The words struck like lightning, and for a moment, Catherine was frozen. She had a vague, dream-like memory of being alone with Aaron in the woods, at night.
“No!” she cried, voice sharp. “He would not do such a thing.”
She shook her head in denial of what Mr. McKay was saying. Aaron had lied to her, but she could not believe him a brute capable of such cruelty. Yet, Mr. McKay persisted.
“Please believe me, Your Grace. I speak the truth. And I can prove it. Or rather, I can introduce you to a man who will prove it to you.”
Her breath came fast. “I… I must think.”
The butler bowed slightly, a soldier’s movement. “Then think, Your Grace. But do not wait too long. He is clever, and every day you remain, the net tightens.”
Catherine stumbled to her chambers, heart hammering. She summoned Sally and whispered that her mistress was suddenly ill, stricken with a severe headache, and would retire at once. Sally, wide-eyed, agreed to tell Aaron.
Catherine closed the door, leaning against it with a shudder. She hated herself for lying, hated leaving him alone downstairs, but she needed time.
