“And this was before the gunshot?” Rose asked.
“That’s correct,” Arabella said. “We feel sure she knew what was coming for your father. The way she scurried away like a black widow proves it.”
“I’ll deal with her tomorrow then.” Rose’s voice was quiet but sure. “Now I must speak with Mrs. Blythe and Prudence.”
Arabella nodded, understanding. “Of course.”
As they turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor, Rose lingered for a moment longer, taking in the ballroom. The flicker of dying candles. The forgotten waltz sheet on the music stand. The scent of roses clinging to the air, stubborn and bittersweet.
Then she turned and made her way toward the servants’ stairs and down to the kitchen.
The room still held the heat of the afternoon, and scents of the feast Mrs. Carter and her staff had prepared lingered. At the long wooden table sat Mrs. Blythe, Mrs. Carter, and Prudence, their expressions anxious in the flickering lanternlight.
The leapt to their feet at the sight of her.
“Lady Rose, are you safe?” Mrs. Blythe asked. “When we heard the gunshot we were frightened that something had happened to you.”
Rose walked over to stand at the end of the table. “I am fine. Shaken, but fine. My father has taken his own life. After admitting that he murdered my mother.” Her hands were still trembling, though she clasped them tightly in front of her. “As I’m sure you know, Baron White has been arrested.” She explained as succinctly as she could the nature of his and her father’s crimes, even though they probably already knew. “Our gardener, Sebastian, is the eldest child of LordAshford. He came here in the hope of discovering what really happened to my mother and prove his father’s innocence. That has been done.”
A sharp breath escaped Mrs. Carter’s lips. Prudence’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she said nothing. Mrs. Blythe simply wrung her hands.
Rose forced herself to say the next part. “And I have remembered everything from that night. I was in the room. I saw him do it.”
“The nightmares?” Prudence asked. “They were to help you remember.”
“That’s right. Mary found me and took me upstairs. She heard it all from the hallway.”
“I thought she knew more than she would say,” Mrs. Blythe said.
“No one would have listened to her, even if she had come forward,” Rose said.
“There has been too much tragedy in this house,” Mrs. Blythe said, wiping her eyes with a hanky.
“All of it because of Father,” Rose said. “I know there will be further inquiries, and more scandal, and no telling what will happen with the estate. I may no longer have a home here but I will do whatever I can to protect the staff. Constable Stephens wants to speak to anyone who was there the night of my mother’s murder. At long last, you will be heard.”
“We will answer as best we can,” Mrs. Blythe said.
“We’re glad to be asked,” Prudence said.
“What has been done about the house guests?” Rose asked.
“Unfortunately, many of them witnessed Baron White’s arrest and most retired to their rooms,” Mrs. Blythe said. “No one will linger tomorrow. I made sure of that.”
Prudence, her voice hoarse, asked. “Are we all safe? Tonight, I mean.”
Rose nodded. “Yes. Stephens and his men are here. There will beno more violence tonight.”
“Lady Rose, do you need anything?” Mrs. Carter asked. “I can make tea.”
“No, thank you. Go to bed,” Rose said gently. “You’ve all done more than enough these last few weeks. Sleep in if you can. Tomorrow will have to be faced. It’s best we do it after a good night’s rest.”
“Let me help you to your room, my lady,” Prudence said.
“Yes, thank you.” Rose gave her a sad smile before turning to head back up the stairs, with her faithful maid behind her.
*
Once they weresafely in her room, she let Prudence unbutton her gown, slide it from her shoulders, and untwist the pins from her hair.
