Amelia turned the key in the lock and spun on her heel.
“What are y-you doing?” Lady Twyford rubbed her arms as though a frozen north wind had gusted.
“Roberts, my lady, why do you go to him?”
Her head wrenched up – blue eyes bleak. “Why should I tell you?” Her lids fell, a tear trailing, and a look of such misery lined her face.
Amelia rushed to kneel by her. “Because I can help you.”
“No, you can’t. No one can. I…I have been so careful. How did you…” She wiped a trembling hand over her eyes. “Oh, what does it matter if you know this much already. He is…b-blackmailing me. Knows things about me that…”
“And you give…what in return? Information?”
“What? No!” The woman shook her head, opening her eyes to display pure confusion. “What information would I have?”
“I know of your husband’s–”
“Of course not! He tells me nothing, if that is what you mean.” She pressed her face into her palms. “Money,” she sobbed. “I give Roberts my pin money, but it’s not enough. He’s demanding more and I have to… I will have to sell my precious family rings.”
Lady Twyford wept into her hands and Amelia perused her.
Could it be an act?
But her fingers trembled, lashes flapping like the wings of a captured moth and her quivering voice held truth.
So Amelia reached out a hand to her shoulder. “What is he blackmailing you over? If you tell me, I can help you.”
“How can you help me? I do not even know who you are.”
“But I know people. People with influence.”
“I… I cannot.” She stuffed a fist into her mouth, her breathing ragged. “I-I do not feel well. I must go home. I have to–”
“Leticia?” The door handle rattled. “Are you in there? You’ve been some while.”
“My husband!” Lady Twyford jumped to her feet, wiping her eyes and shuddering. “He mustn’t know… I… Edmund is…” She grabbed hold of Amelia’s arm. “If you mean me no harm, as you say, prove it. Help me with my hat. My shoes.”
Amelia nodded and the lady breathed deep. “I’m here, Edmund. Just one moment.”
Together they replaced her shoes, wiped her eyes, positioned the hat atop her curls and straightened her dress.
“My lady,” Amelia whispered, “Roberts will be brought to justice and this wretchedness will soon be over.”
A hand touched Amelia’s cheek. “Sweet girl,” she said softly. “But my wretchedness will never be over.”
The lady brought the veil down over her eyes and trudged to the door while Amelia hid herself behind a screen.
She heard the key turn and the door open.
“Leticia?”
“I f-feel unwell, Edmund. Can we go home?”
Amelia strained to hear the response but the door clicked shut behind them, and so she returned to the chaise to straighten her clocked stockings and muse.
This investigation was like a Rookery labyrinth, twisting and dead ending, secrets unveiled and new ones to uncover.
Yet one thing Amelia felt sure of was that Lady Twyford was not who they were searching for, so with a sigh, she meandered to the mirror, pinched her cheeks and made for the door.
