Another death. More suffering. Am I cursed to bring misfortune to those dearest to me?
Pushing aside her fears, she resolved to adopt a better frame of mind. She would help James with the hustings and the campaign he was sure to win. Perhaps she could even talk him into relaxing this evening. He was under a great deal of strain, and although he hid it well, she saw the lines of fatigue around his eyes. What he needed was pampering—a long hot bath, she decided. To help him unwind, she would rub his shoulders and perhaps other parts of him…
With a warm flutter, she got out of bed, and Pauline readied her for the day. She decided to tackle the task she’d been avoiding: making amends to Harkness. The fact that she’d suspected her dearest friend of being involved with the blackmail scheme filled her with remorse.
It was clear now that Harkness had done nothing to warn Merrow. Had she been his accomplice, he would not have come to claim the decoy necklace. A man forewarned does not walk straight into a snare. Merrow’s unguarded arrival, his shock when confronted, and his desperate, solitary struggle for survival all proved he had acted alone.
In retrospect, every scrap of “evidence” against Harkness dissolved into mere coincidence. The sovereigns were her savings and her gloves commonplace. Her wish to travel was just a longing for a holiday. None of it pointed to treachery. Yet Evie had doubted her companion, who’d been there for her through thick and thin. While she’d never accused Harkness directly, her cold behavior had damaged their relationship. She needed to confess her terrible suspicions and offer her abject apologies. Thinking of how her well-meaning family had violated Harkness’s privacy, she winced. No, apologizing would not be sufficient. If need be, she would grovel.
At Harkness’s chamber, she found the door ajar and knocked softly before entering.
“Good morning, Harkness. I was wondering if you might be…”
She trailed off as she saw Harkness sitting in a chair, dressed in traveling clothes. Her companion’s battered trunk and valise were packed, waiting to be carried out.
“I…I wasn’t aware you were taking a trip,” Evie blurted.
“I am leaving.” Harkness’s gaze was hard as obsidian. “You will find my letter of resignation on the desk. I thank you for the years of employment?—”
“No.” With a cry, Evie flew over, kneeling and putting her head on Harkness’s lap as she had when she sought comfort as a child. “I am sorry for my behavior of late. I have much to explain, I know, and I came here to do it. To apologize for being distant and cold and?—”
“You misunderstand.” Harkness’s voice was harsh, the scrape of steel against steel. “I am not leaving because of anything you did. But after last night, I can no longer pretend that my presence is of benefit to you.”
“I know you are angry at me and deservedly so. You have always been my confidante, and I shut you out. If you’ll let me explain?—”
“No, my lamb.” Harkness lifted a hand, running it with unexpected gentleness over Evie’s hair. “You don’t need to explain anything. For I failed you, you see. I promised your mama I would look after you and never let you come to harm. Yet I kept secrets from you…kept you in the dark about so many things.”
Looking up, Evie saw that Harkness’s eyes were glittering, not with anger…but remorse?
A cool droplet slid down her spine. “What do you mean?”
“I did it to protect you,” Harkness said bleakly. “You were a young girl, and I didn’t think you could handle the truth. I told myself I would tell you someday, when the time was right and you were ready…yet I kept putting it off. It was cowardice, I suppose, for I dreaded the very thought of revealing this terrible secret. As the years passed, it became more difficult to bring it up?—”
“Bring what up? Harkness, please, you are frightening me,” Evie pleaded. “What have you hidden from me that I should know?”
“When it happened, you were so young—only fourteen. I was afraid you would say something to Wilmington. You were dependent on him, for everything, and the knowledge…it would only put you in danger. I did what I thought was best: I stayed, looked after you, and kept my silence. Everything I did, I did to protect you—do you understand?”
“I don’t understand. You’re not making any sense. What is this secret? Tell me.”
“He didn’t know that I was there.” Harkness’s eyes took on a faraway gleam. “He should have known because I was always there by Beatrix’s side. I was in her sitting room when he came in, with such stealth that I didn’t hear him.”
Dread curled in Evie’s belly. “He…you mean Wilmington?”
“Yes. It was Wilmington. He was alone with Beatrix, and I didn’t know. I was busy searching for a book she liked. When she was a girl, she begged me to read to her, and during her convalescence, I wanted to give her comfort.” Harkness’s voice broke. “Instead, I let her come to harm.”
Evie gripped her companion’s arm. “What happened?”
“I found the book. I’d taken but a step into the bedchamber when I saw him standing by the side of the bed. Instinct made me retreat behind the doorway; I was not one to interrupt a private moment between a man and his wife. Yet the silence that ticked by stirred the hairs on my nape and prompted me to peer around the doorway.”
“What did you see?” Evie asked through numb lips.
“Wilmington…he was lifting a pillow from Beatrix’s face. She was waxen and still—and I knew. I knew what he had done. He murdered her—killed my darling girl.”
Evie felt as if she were floating. Her voice sounded as if it came from someone else.
“What happened next?”
“He…he put the pillow back in place.” Tears dripped over the worn folds of Harkness’s countenance. “He fluffed it, the weapon he used to kill my dearest Beatrix, and then left without a second glance. I remained where I was, half-hidden in the doorway, her book clutched to my chest. I didn’t know what to do. Who would believe me if I reported what I saw? Who would take the word of a servant over a man as powerful as Wilmington?”
