“Not pushed. There were no need for that. The poison made her sick. She tried to drink from the fountain, but I pushed her head under the water. She beat her fists and kicked something fierce, but she were too weak. When she stopped, I put her in the fountain.”
Bridget’s pulse raced. She eyed the chamber door. Would Eliza let her go? Or would she try to harm her too? She grabbed her father’s lock of hair, threw it into the wooden box and closed the lid. Then, tucking her treasure safely under her arm, she forced herself to stand. “You’ll need to wait here for a bit, understand?” She clutched the box and backed away from Eliza. “The magistrate will want to speak with you. But you’re not to worry. He’ll understand,” Bridget lied as she slid toward the door.
Eliza made no move toward her. She simply stood, a small but frightening figure in black mourning attire, following Bridget with her dark gaze.
“I were a good servant to my master. He’d lost his way. He couldn’t see your mama for what she truly was. I did what was needed to protect him and you.”
Bridget’s heart contracted with fear. She froze. “What do you mean? Protect him from whom?”
“She were with child when the master brought her home. With child before they’d wed. That child were lost. The Lord knew it were a sin and would not let it enter this world.”
“Are you talking about Mama?” Bridget’s voice came out in a whisper.
Eliza walked toward Bridget, who backed herself into the wall. Eliza stopped in front of her, reached out, and stroked Bridget’s hair. “You were different. And so like your papa from the very first. That’s why I always took care to protect you.”
“I don’t understand. What are you saying? You took care of Mama during her illness, didn’t you? You nursed her—”
“It were you and my master I cared for—protected. I saved him and you from her by feeding her the poison that made her ill.”
Bridget’s breathing shallowed and her head began to spin. “You poisoned Mama?”
With that, her calm and her reason fled; she turned and lunged for the exit, dropping the box in her bid to escape. It crashed to the floor just as the door flew open. Bridget swallowed her scream and fell into her aunt’s arms.
“What is going on here?” Aunt Marianne stumbled back from the force of Bridget’s embrace.
“She killed them—all of them. Including Mama.” Bridget looked into her aunt’s alarmed face. “Eliza killedMama.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Calm yourself. What is this all about?” Aunt Marianne looked from Bridget to Eliza.
“Check her pocket. The letters. They explain everything. We must send for the magistrate.”
“There’ll be no need for that.” Eliza walked to Bridget’s bed and sank onto her mattress. “I’m not long for this world.”
Bridget’s heart drummed wildly in her chest as the meaning of the maid’s words—and her strangely tight face and ashen appearance—occurred to her. “What did you do?”
Eliza put a hand on her stomach. “Self-murder,” she said. “Just like my master.” Her eyelids fluttered as though she struggled to keep them open. “Bury me at the crossroads beside him, so our restless souls can be together for all eternity.” Her thin, pale lips stretched into a ghostly smile. Then she clutched her abdomen with both hands before she fell to the floor.
“What is happening?” Aunt Marianne screeched.
“She’s eaten poison.” Bridget ran to Eliza, reaching to feel for a pulse. “Call the magistrate and the doctor. Hurry!” she cried out, even though she knew it was too late. Her lady’s maid was dead.
Chapter Thirty
With a heavyheart, Nate watched from the study window as Lady Luxton stepped into her regal carriage. The nanny entered after her, carrying little Henry. Seeing the child disappear into the coach produced a crushing sensation in his chest.
Helen did not take kindly to rejection. She would use the boy to punish him. And he’d likely never see his child again.
He knew in his heart the child was his. He’d felt the connection as soon as they’d met. The carriage rolled down the path to the gates of Villa De Lacey, passing through them for the last time.
Exhaling, he turned to Bridget, who had just finished sticking the last of her mother’s letters, which she’d found torn to pieces in Eliza’s dresser drawer, together.
She glanced up at Nate, her lovely blue eyes filled with pain. “How is it possible to know someone your whole life—to live in the same household together—and yet knownothingabout them?”
“Oh, it’s possible,” Nate said, coming to sit opposite her. “When I was betrothed to Helen, I knew nothing about her true personality. In my eyes, she was an angel with a good and loyal heart. If any man had tried to tell me differently, I would have challenged him to a duel. Yet, I could not have been more wrong. And as for my brother—well, I always knew what he was, but I never imagined he’d sink so low as to…” He shook his head, not wanting to offend the lady by finishing his sentence.
“But I was living with a killer, and Itrustedher. I knew the way sheinsisted on wearing full mourning for Papa as though she were his widow was strange, but I never saw the evil inside her. I thought she was acting out of devotion and maybe love.”
Nate let out a short laugh. “Do you know, that’s what Frederick said about my brother. He betrayed me because he thought he was trying to save me—that too was an act of love of sorts. But that’s not love. It’s only the way an evil person tries to justify their actions.”
