Rachel clapped her hands in ironic applause. “Very good, Mr. Grey. The chauffeur, Fenton, was her father. He threw her out in a fit of rage. The next day he was sorry, or sober, and he went looking for her, and if your brother had so much as given her a few pounds to tide her over, some indication of kindness, she might be alive now. But she was abandoned and afraid and she had vanished into London. She took the stuff that killed her before Fenton could track her down.”
“Wait. Bram was absolutely wrong in what he did. But if her fatheralsosent her away—”
“He changed his mind.”
“Bram might have changed his mind in time!” Zeb snapped. “Why is he the only one to blame?”
“He isn’t,” Rachel said. “Fenton has been racked with guilt and remorse every day of the last ten years or so. Has your brother?”
“Regardless,” Gideon said, in the tone he used to close down conversations. Possibly he felt Zeb should not be arguing with her right now, and possibly he was right. “That’s the chauffeur. What about the others?”
Rachel contemplated Zeb for a few seconds longer, then switched her gaze to Gideon. “Oh, it’s all the same story, told a variety of ways. Anna, the cook, was an artist’s model, as I was until Hawley left me afraid to be in the company of men. He called her his muse, made her promises, put a baby in her belly, and discarded her when his painting was done. Her husband came back from abroad, beat her, and left her. The child was stillborn; she turned to drink. Her whole life ruined because Hawley wanted inspiration, and she’s far from the only one.”
Gideon nodded slowly. “And the footmen?”
“Alfred’s sweetheart was Mrs. Bram’s lady’s maid. Bram pawed her; Mrs. Bram caught him at it and dismissed her without a reference. She stole a pair of earrings on her way out, with an idea of compensation, and Mrs. Bram prosecuted. She’s serving two years. Another life spoiled.”
“Right. What about the other footman?”
Rachel smiled, in a way he hadn’t seen before. “My husband.”
“Oh, well, that’s good,” Zeb said. “I’m glad you have someone. That’s nice. So all the staff hate my family, then. What about Dash? What did he do?”
“Wynn told you what he did. Colonel Dash ingratiated himself with a schoolgirl, his pretty young cousin. She was several months gone when she drowned herself.”
Zeb stopped sawing and stared at her. Gideon said, “That wasDash? Why did Wynn not act before?”
“He only found out last year. He was going through some old exercise books of Georgina’s that had been rotting in a chest and discovered one was a coded diary.” She shrugged. “I quite agree he’s unhinged. I suspect that discovery played a role in the unhinging.”
“But that can’t be right,” Zeb said. “Because Jessamine is, or is supposed to be, Georgina’s child. That would make Dash Jessamine’s father, which he must have realised, but he offered her marriage. I heard him.”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “He did, didn’t he. Wynn was quite angry about that.”
“That was the night he disappeared,” Gideon observed. “What happened to him?”
She gave him a cold smile. “You don’t want me to answer that. Or do you? Do you intend to rescue him from the consequences he’s avoided all these years? Do you think there is any other prospect of making him face those consequences?”
“I suppose there’s no such prospect for any of you,” Gideon said. “The police and the law courts don’t do well with intimate crimes.”
“Oh, there would be no justice at all.” Rachel’s every word was bitter as aloe. “Florence became Bram’s mistress willinglyenough—she was sixteen and wanted pretty dresses. It isn’t illegal to turn one’s pregnant mistress into the streets, and Mrs. Bram had every right to tell her husband to throw the harlot out. Georgina should have known better than to walk out with men, even her handsome Cousin Dash. Alfred’s sweetheart stole the earrings, and that is a crime of property, which makes it important. Anna let Hawley seduce her in the first place, so she has no right at all to complain about the consequences.Ididn’t let him. I fought, just as a good woman is supposed to, but when I went to the police with the injuries he inflicted on me still showing, they heard that I was an artist’s model, decided what that meant, and told me not to trouble them again.”
“That is all wrong. Horribly wrong,” Zeb said. The last bit of twine parted under the knife blade. He pulled at the entangling strands, and Gideon’s hands were free. He shook them out, while Zeb moved to free his feet, teasing the knot undone with his fingernails. “And when there is no justice available, I quite understand why you would act yourselves. But what did I do? Who did I harm? Because, honestly, the only one I can think of is Gideon, and—”
“No,” Gideon said, with force.
Rachel looked down at Zeb, face unreadable. “Wynn said you were as venal and cruel as the rest. He said you would do anything for the inheritance, that you would take vengeance on Bram and court Jessamine for her money, and especially that you’d panic when you realised your former lover was in the house. We were waiting to see what you’d do to keep him quiet.”
“Were you,” Gideon said tightly. “How kind.”
She gave a tiny lift of her hands, which might have been interpreted as apology, or not. “Wynn said he had treated you appallingly and got you sacked as some sort of lovers’ quarrel. You were resentful enough about him that I didn’t question the story.”
Gideon had gone rather white about the mouth, under the drying blood. “I might have been angry, as if it’s any of your business. But Zeb did nothing to merit this and I never said he did.”
“It’s all right,” Zeb said.
“No, it is not! You people put spiders in his room and scrawled on his walls, made him the object of his family’s hate, and brought me into it to use against him—”
“We thought you would pose a threat to each other.” She nodded at Zeb. “Jessamine would favour you; your brother would try to push you out of the way, as he did before; Hawley would see you as his main rival; and meanwhile you’d need to silence Mr. Grey, because he could so easily reveal your shameful secret—”
