“Maureen was in hysterics. I thought covering the body would help.”
They entered the house together and the glorious warmth rushed over them. Mira’s fingers and toes tingled as Byron closed the door behind them.
“Let me check on Maureen before I head up,” Mira said, moving to the sitting room. Sobs reached her ears before she reached the open doorway.
Mrs. Renaldi sat with Maureen on the sofa, trying to calm the poor woman down. Mrs. Turpin sat on the opposite side, doing the same. Aunt Eleanor sat near the fire, incredibly still and pale. Admiral Hoddle was behind the sofa, pacing back and forth in a show of worry. Every so often he opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again.
Mrs. Sherard sat in one of the wide, wing-backed chairs and Mary stood by the window. Both turned their attention to Byron and Mira the moment they entered the room.
She was certain she looked a mess. Her wet, stringy hair was plastered to her neck and face. Her skirts were sodden, her skin red from the cold. And, of course, she had Byron’s coat draped around her shoulders. It was much worse than her first impression, but frankly, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
She walked across the room, ignoring haughty stares and curious looks, and crouched next to Maureen.
“Are you all right?”
“No. No. That...the blood.”
“I’ve been trying to convince her to go rest,” Mrs. Renaldi said.
Maureen’s gaze was unfocused. She was looking at Mira, but it was as if she couldn’t see her.
“Do you know where you are, Maureen? Can you feel my hand?”
“She’s hysterical,” Mary said, stepping away from the window. “Gone weak from the shock.”
“Hysteria?” Admiral Hoddle said, stopping in place. “Why, I hadn’t considered it before...”
Mira looked back at Maureen. She wasn’t certain it was hysteria in this case.
Byron helped her to stand. “You really ought to go rest yourself.”
“I’m fine, really,” Mira said. “Just a little damp.”
“Here’s the tea,” Liza said, coming through the door. She paused, taking in Mira’s state of dress, and set the tray on the table. “Why, you look positively frozen, Mira.”
Byron gave Mira a pointed look.
“I’m warming up,” Mira said. She glanced back at Maureen and lowered her voice. “Maureen seems to be taking this rather badly.”
“I’m not surprised,” Liza said. “It is rather a shock to her, after her father, you know.”
Mira frowned. “I had heard he had died but... what happened?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Liza whispered. “It isn’t the time or the place for it.”
Byron cleared his throat. “Where are the Risewells?”
“I’m not sure. Mrs. Risewell left when we came in, and I haven’t seen Theresia since...since we found Mr. Treadway.”
“What are you all whispering about?” Mrs. Sherard said. “Are the police here?”
“Not yet, Mamma,” Byron said. “Likely won’t be for another hour or so with all the snow.”
Liza took Mira’s hand. “We ought to get you out of those wet things. Come on.”
***
Once in the safety of the RoseRoom, Liza helped her peel off the wet, sweaty layers and set Mira in front of the fire with a blanket wrapped around her.
