I shiver uncontrollably. AJ did that to me. Wanted it to happen. “What of the woman who was…was buried? As me?”
He sighs. “The mangled remains of a woman matching your description were located by a pair of fishermen off the coast weeks later. Mr. Winthrop identified the body, dressed only in a shift, and buried her. They couldn’t prove anything concerning her cause of death, with the condition of her remains, so the matter was labeled misadventure.
“But then the witness statements came forth, citing the argument. The large fortune. Mr. Winthrop then claimed he was not even in the carriage. He maintained his innocence each time, persuading the barrister in a most compelling manner to drop the charges. Which…he did.”
Compelling. Yes, that describes AJ. “Then he spent my money.”
“I’m afraid it seems that way. It was gone very quickly, from what I can tell.” He places a hand on mine. “He’s about to lay hold of what he wants once again, Merryn. He’ll have full control of what should be Cecil’s estate. I know you care for the boy, so consider his future.”
I am dizzy. Idoconsider his future, and his present circumstances. My head wishes to float away and I forcefully wrangle it into place.
His hand tightens on mine. “You mustn’t try to approach him. He’s charming. Deceptive. And there’s one other complication.”
I snort. “What, another wife?”
“He’s already been cleared of your murder. Which means—”
“He’s unlikely to be charged for it again now.”
“It’d be terribly difficult. Especially attempting to prove he buried the wrong woman before if the right one—you—are also dead. There’s a good chance he’d wheedle out of such a complicated mess. Promise me, Merryn. Promise you’ll allow me to handle this. Perhaps you’d consider a trip to the countryside. I can arrange for you to stay with my sister, if that suits.”
I frown. Tap my foot. “May I see the inquisition notes?”
He hands me the file. I skim to find what I need.
“Do I have your word, Merryn? That you’ll leave this to me?”
I back toward the door. “Mr. Gould, the surest way to convince me to do a thing is to tell me not to.”
“Merryn—”
“I have many skills, Mr. Gould. Obeying isn’t one of them. I do appreciate your concern.” I slip out the door before he can stop me. There are things more important than safety.
“Mrs. Winthrop!Merryn!”
But I stop for no one. I take to the sidewalk, moving quickly and repeating the address listed for AJ in the file—likely the one we once shared.
Sometimes going back is the only way to go forward.
Chapter 35
William, 1947
Goingbackneverhelpsyou move forward, but William does it anyway.
He calls Helen, crammed into a narrow telephone booth on Trelawney Row as rain pours down the glass door.Other people feel your absence.
It took a great deal out of him, going to that hospital, and it didn’t seem to change the lieutenant. But it rattled William, his own words pinging around his mind.
Give her the privilege of deciding for herself.He isn’t certain he’s brave enough—or selfish enough—to do this.
“Hello, who’s this?” comes Helen’s cheery voice.
Your very broken husband. Who can scarcely bear to be without you.He started these calls to check in on her, and to assure himself she was still alive after news of the great fire rightin Tewkesbury. While his life had been exploding in Europe, the munitions plant where many of their neighbors and friends worked had exploded.
But now, the calls are purely for him.
“Hello? Hello, who is there?”
