She hesitated outside the door. On the other side of it were people she’d once trusted and even counted as friends. Not only hadthey betrayed her, but they had betrayed many others as well. She was nervous to face them, but she also knew that Lucas was inside.
She placed her hand on the brass handle and opened it.
Heat from the large fire in the grate rushed her as she entered, and the plethora of candles added light to the cluttered chamber. Several crates had been placed on a table in the center of the room, revealing an assortment of chinoiserie. Tabitha, Russell, and Mr.Wakes were each seated in a chair with their hands tied behind them. Lucas, Mr.Cunningham, and two of the constables were also present.
Immediately, she caught Russell’s eye.
He did not look away. Instead, he fixed his hard, angry gaze on her.
Years of shared experiences flashed before her. Up until now he had been an important figure in her life—a constant when so many other things had shifted.
And then she looked to Tabitha. As odd as it seemed, this betrayal stung more. Tabitha’s cheerful friendliness had been a safe harbor during her uneasy time at the house party, but looking at Tabitha now, she could scarcely believe any softness resided in her. Her wet copper hair was plastered to her forehead and the side of her face, and the moisture in it made it appear that much darker. Her skin was ghostly white, which emphasized the dark shadows beneath her lower lashes, the smattering of freckles on her upturned nose and cheeks, and the purplish-red hue of her eyelids.
Olivia moved wordlessly next to Lucas, who stood just next to the fire, but as she did, footsteps and cries echoed from the hall, followed by panicked voices. Mr. Wainbridge, Isabella, andMrs. Milton all bustled in, still clad in their fine attire from their evening at the Whitmores’ home.
In the midst of all the confusion, it was Mrs.Milton who drew Olivia’s attention, and her heart ached for the older woman. Horror and distress at seeing Tabitha tied up with the men suffused her face. No doubt she was putting the pieces together.
Mr.Cunningham raised his hands to quiet the chatter. He fixed his glare on the three perpetrators, and his voice echoed hard and deep. “Do any of you three want to start by telling me what exactly is going on here?”
No one moved or spoke.
“If no one’s going to respond,” Mr.Cunningham continued, “I’ll tell you what I observed with my own eyes. I saw this maid bringing items from Cloverton Hall to an old cottage on the moor. And I saw that these two gentlemen brought exact replicas of the pieces. Now, why would that be?”
The three thieves remained silent.
“It wouldn’t be that you were going to swap them out, thinking no one would be any the wiser, would it?”
When they failed to respond again, Cunningham leaned a few inches in front of Tabitha’s face. “Maybe I am not being clear. I’m asking you questions. Did you steal these items?”
Fresh tears streamed down her already tearstained cheeks, but instead of remorse, hardness settled over her features. She whirled her head to face Olivia. “Ye know me, MissBrannon! Ye know I’m no thief.”
Olivia shook her head. “No, I don’t know you, Tabitha. I thought I did, but I was mistaken.”
“These things, all of ’em, should belong t’ me.” She fought against the ropes, then spun to face Mrs. Milton and pinned a hard, hateful glare on the older woman. “Either you tell ’em, or I will.”
All color drained from Mrs.Milton’s face. Her cheeks shook. Her hands trembled.
Olivia feared Mrs.Milton might faint.
Tabitha jeered toward Mrs.Milton. “Francis Milton was me father. Wasn’t ’e,Mrs.Milton? Ah, ye can be generous t’ me and hide me away, pretend it’s not so, but ye know I’m right. Those things are me birthright. And so I took ’em.”
She swung her head back to face Olivia. “Did ye not wonder why Mrs.Milton was so kind t’ me mother? ’Twas’er ’usbandwhat took advantage of ’er.’er ’usbandwho ruined me mother’s life. And instead of throwin’ me mother out, she used ’er—an’ me—t’ make Francis Milton pay for ’is sins every day of ’is miserable, deplorable life.”
Mrs.Milton, in a display much more fitting to the woman Olivia had gotten to know, slammed her hand down on a nearby table, rattling the chinoiserie. Olivia anticipated yelling, shouting, but instead the woman’s eyes narrowed. Her voice tightened. She locked eyes on Tabitha. “Is this really what you’ve come to? No allegiance? No loyalty? No friendship?”
“’Twasyer’usband,” Tabitha hurled, her face pale, her eyes wide. “Yer ’usbandwho is responsible for all o’ this.”
“Oh yes, my husband made mistakes,” admitted Mrs.Milton, her gumption strengthening. “But I treated you with nothing but kindness and respect. And this is how you repay me?”
Tabitha scoffed, even as fresh tears raced down her round cheeks. “Don’t ye dare use me t’ ease yer conscience. You’re just asbad as ’e was, because ye ’id it from t’ world. Your ’usband ruined me mother and ultimately killed her.”
The hatred, the anger in Tabitha’s voice, shocked Olivia. Never would she have thought the girl so capable of vengeance.
But whereas Tabitha seemed to be crumbling, Mrs.Milton seemed to be garnering vigor. “No, Tabitha. No. You chose this path. And I cannot, I will not, help you. Not anymore.”
“I’ve had enough of this,” Cunningham interrupted, refocusing the interrogation. He pointed a finger at Tabitha. “You will answer my questions and only my questions, are we clear?”
Mrs.Milton spun and hurried from the room.
