He nodded slowly, then pushed the book toward me. I snatched it from him.
“You cannot honestly believe that one of my own staff has done this. Think about what you are saying.”
He leaned forward swiftly. “No, you must think about what you are denying. What I have just given you is the only explanation that makes sense. And it means that you could be at risk if you continue this investigation. Someone in that house hated your husband, perhaps enough to kill him. If you try to unmask him now, he might kill again, and this time it will be you.”
I shook my head angrily. “I cannot believe that. I know them—”
“Do you? What do you know of Aquinas? You may have had references for him, but what about his life before that? Before he came into service? What of Morag? What of the footmen, the maids, Diggory? What do you know of any of them? Think of it the next time one of them brings you a pot of tea or lights the fire or scrubs the floor or laces your corset. One of them might be responsible for murdering your husband. And they might simply be waiting for their next chance….”
I rose then, icily calm, stuffing the Psalter into my reticule. “I am sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Brisbane, when you are so clearly still in the throes of your indisposition. We can discuss this again when you are more clearheaded.”
He muttered something under his breath, something faintly obscene, so I pretended not to hear it. He did not rise as I left, and as I closed the door behind me I heard the high, splintering sound of breaking glass.
Madame de Bellefleur met me at the door, her face anxious.
“My lady, must you leave so soon? But we have not had tea.”
Her tone was pleading and I felt chagrined. She had been very hospitable, and I was behaving badly by running away. Impulsively, I put a hand to her arm.
“It is as you said, Madame de Bellefleur. Mr. Brisbane is in a nasty temper. Too nasty to do business with, I am afraid. But if you would invite me again, just the two of us, I would be delighted to take tea with you. Or,” I added recklessly, “perhaps you would care to come to Grey House.”
Her face suffused with light. “How lovely you are! Yes, that would be very nice. Come, I will walk you out.”
She escorted me to where Diggory was waiting at the kerb. I settled myself against the grey satin upholstery and asked myself for the thousandth time why Edward would have chosen such an impractical fabric for a carriage seat. Velvet would have been just as opulent, but at least then I would not have had to hang on to the edge of the seat by my fingernails to avoid slipping off of it.
Madame de Bellefleur put her hand into the window to shake mine. “It has been most charming making your acquaintance, my lady. Thank you for coming.”
“You were very kind to invite me. I am only sorry that I have to leave so suddenly. And I fear I have left him rather more difficult than I found him,” I said with a rueful glance toward the house.
Her laugh was merry and light, like the trill of silver bells. It was a Frenchwoman’s trick; I had never known an Englishwoman to laugh like that.
“La,my lady, I have seen him far worse than this. I have ways of handling him, do not fear.”
Of that much I was certain.
THE TWENTY-SECOND CHAPTER
Truth is truth
To the end of reckoning.
—William Shakespeare
Measure for Measure
Iwas depressed that night, as I had not been since Edward’s death. Mindful of Brisbane’s warning, I started every time Aquinas spoke to me. I waved Henry off when he would have lit the fire in the study, and I dismissed Morag as soon as she had unlaced my corset, pleading a headache. The only peace I had had the entire evening was the hour I spent with Simon, chatting and reading the newspapers.
But even that had been tinged with regret. His face had grown thinner still, and his hands, when they held mine, were like twiggy bundles of bones under his skin. I left him, feeling desperately sorry for myself. When he passed and the Ghoul moved on, I would be alone in a mausoleum of a house with a staff I no longer trusted and a brother I never saw. I heard an occasionalquorkfrom behind Val’s door, so I knew the raven was still in residence, but I did not have the heart to scold him. I paced a good deal, and found it difficult to get to sleep, the more so because I now refused the little remedies that Morag was so proficient at concocting. I took to reading, far into the night, until my eyes burned and the words swam on the page. When I did finally sleep, my dreams were ragged and dark and I woke often, cursing Brisbane and wishing I had never found the threatening note in the drawer.
Even as I muttered the words, I knew I did not mean them. However difficult, however impossible, I wanted the truth, even if it meant unmasking one of my own. Yet I could not believe that an inhabitant of Grey House had harmed Edward, was capable of harming me. I firmly believed that the danger had come from outside.
But how? I had tried to convince Brisbane that the house was frequented by guests and family, but he had been disinterested, preferring to focus his accusations upon my own staff. How could I possibly get him to direct his attentions outside Grey House, where the true perpetrator lay?
After a good deal of rumination, it came to me. In order to force Brisbane to look outside Grey House, I had to prove to him that there was nothing of interestinit. I would undertake to prove the innocence of my staff, and in doing so, I would eliminate my own people as potential villains. Then Brisbane, seeing the error of his ways, would be properly abashed, apologize prettily, and we would pursue the true perpetrator.
I liked this plan very much. It was neat, tidy, and above all, it permitted me to score over Brisbane. The only trouble was devising a method of actually proving the innocence of my staff. There was only one means that came to mind, and I did not like it at all.
Unfortunately, Brisbane was quick to point it out to me when I saw him the following day.
