“Yes.”
He came around the desk and crossed the room to stand a few feet in front of her.
“Will you tell me your story?” he asked. “We might be here all day if I have to ask questions and have monosyllables for answer.”
She continued to stare at him.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I will not be believed,” she said. “When all this is told in a court of law, Lord Brocklehurst will tell the version he has told you, and he will be believed, as you believe him. He is a man and a baron. I am a woman and a governess—and a whore. It is not worth my while to waste my breath.”
“I have learned nothing from Brocklehurst,” he said. “All I know, I have learned independently. I heard him call youIsabella. You yourself called your former home ‘Her—.’ I sent Houghton to Heron House to find out what he could about an Isabella.”
“Why?” The word was whispered.
He shrugged. “Because your past has always been shrouded in mystery,” he said. “Because I knew, unfortunately too late, that only extreme circumstances could have forced you into becoming what you became in London in my company. Because I saw the terror in your face when you first set eyes on Brocklehurst in my drawing room. Because both of you clearly lied about the degree of your acquaintance. Because I care.”
“Perhaps it is as well,” she said. “You have tried to make a liar and a thief and a murderer into your mistress.”
“Is that what you believe of me, Fleur?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Even though I sent you to bed rather than accompany you to your room that night for fear I would not be able to let you go?” he said. “Even though I have not come near you since, except to apologize?” He passed a hand over his brow and sighed. “Come and sit down.”
“No,” she said.
“Fleur,” he said, “will you turn around and open the door?”
She looked at him warily and did so.
“Close it again,” he said. “What did you see?”
“The footman who let me in here,” she said.
“Do you know him?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “He is Jeremy.”
“Do you know him well? Do you like him?”
“He is always friendly and courteous,” she said.
“He is to stand there,” he said, “until you emerge or until he is summoned or until I send him away. If you were to scream, he would rush in here to your rescue. Come and sit down.”
She preceded him straight-backed to two upright chairsclose to the window and sat down on one. She folded her hands in her lap.
“The man who died was your cousin’s valet?” he said, taking the other chair. But he did not wait for her answer. “Did you have anything at all to do with his death?”
“Yes,” she said. “I killed him.”
“But you do not call yourself a murderer,” he said. “Why not?”
“He was a great strong man,” she said. “He was going to hold me while Matthew ravished me. I pushed him as he came up behind me. He must have been off-balance, as we were very close to the hearth. He fell and hit his head.”
“And died?”
“Yes,” she said. “He died instantly.”
