“The girls came to my house of their own will, did they not?”
“That is what you claim,” The constable blinked.
“No,” Duncan said, “that is what they will tell you if you ask them instead of listening to a man who arrived shouting.”
Duncan finally turned his head slightly, just enough to address Augusta and Matilda without breaking control.
“Come here,” Duncan said. Charity’s throat tightened. She wanted to pull them back, to hide them, to speak first, to do anything that might protect them, but Duncan’s voice had already set the room into a different order, and to Charity’s shock, Augusta stepped forward.
Matilda clung to Augusta’s hand, but she came too, eyes wide, mouth trembling. Charity’s stomach lurched, but she forced herself not to move, forced herself not to interfere, since she could see Duncan had a plan, and she could also see that panic would only make this worse.
Duncan spoke to Augusta first, and his voice lowered slightly, not soft, but controlled enough that Charity knew he was trying not to frighten her further.
“Tell them,” Duncan said. “Did I steal you?”
“No,” Augusta said, and she spoke clearly, eyes fixed on the constables. “He did not steal us, and if you had any decency, you would ask why we ran in the first place instead of storming into a church like this.”
The constable looked startled by her bluntness, then looked at Matilda.
“And you,” he said, less harshly, “did you come of your own will?”
Matilda’s lip trembled. She swallowed hard and nodded, though she looked on the verge of tears.
“Yes,” Matilda said, and her voice shook, but she pushed through it. “We came because Uncle Edward scares me, and he shouts, and he says strange things, and he tried to make Charity drink something, and then she got sick, and I thought she was going to die, and I do not want to go back.”
The room went so quiet that Charity heard someone inhale sharply near the front pews.
Edward’s face went red with rage.
“You little liar,” Edward shouted, stepping forward again, but the constable grabbed his arm.
“Sir,” the constable said, voice hard, “you will stop, or I will put you outside myself.”
Edward jerked his arm, but he did not push again, and the fact that he was being restrained in front of witnesses seemed to make him even more unstable.
Duncan returned his attention to the constables.
“You have just heard a child say the Viscount gave his eldest niece something that made her ill,” Duncan said. “Would you like to hear the rest, or would you like to pretend you did not hear it?”
The constable swallowed, clearly thrown off his original script.
“Your Grace,” he said, “if there was poisoning, that is a serious charge.”
“It is,” Duncan replied, “which is why I did not rely on rumor, and I did not rely on a frightened girl’s word alone, and I did not rely on emotion, since men like this always accuse women of hysteria when it suits them.”
Duncan continued without hesitation.
“I have a physician’s note,” Duncan said. “A written statement, signed, concerning Charity’s condition after she was found ill, the substance suspected, and the fact that this man had access to her food and drink before she collapsed.”
“Lies. All lies,” Edward shouted again, voice breaking. “She is dramatic. She has always been dramatic.”
Duncan did not even look at him.
“I also have the threatening letters,” Duncan said, turning slightly so the constable could see Malcolm step forward with a packet in hand. “Multiple notes sent to my house, warning me to return the girls, accusing me of theft, threatening consequences, and making clear the viscount is not thinking clearly, or behaving lawfully, or acting like a man with any stable judgment.”
Malcolm held the packet out without a word, and the constable took it with visible reluctance, then began to skim, his expression changing line by line. The second constable leaned in to read over his shoulder, and as they read, their uncertainty deepened into concern.
“This is written,” the first constable said slowly, as if he could not quite believe it, “like a man trying to frighten someone rather than like a man making a lawful complaint.” The constable looked up at Duncan, conflicted. “Your Grace,” he said, “we were told the girls had been taken, and we were told the wedding was part of it.”
