‘If the townhouse on Mount Row didn’t already have a staff, I would bring you with me, though I won’t be able to match the wages you’ll earn by staying here, Mrs Higgins.’
‘Poor Lily will be counting her lucky stars she got the chop before all this happened. She wouldn’t have lasted a day with the new mistress, I’m sure of that.’
Cynthia’s brow furrowed as Helena gleaned from Mrs Higgins’ thoughts that Lily had recently been a young maid in the household. Something darker flicked through the housekeeper’s mind, but it was too fleeting for Helena to catch.
‘Have you heard anything from her? I was intent on forcing Hubert to rehire her before… his unfortunate passing. I’m sorry to say his death distracted me completely. I do hope Lily was able to find work in a new household. I wasn’t even able to give her a letter of recommendation.’
No letter will help the poor mite get a job now.
Helena quirked her head at Mrs Higgins’ sentiment. It wasn’t easy for a young woman to find new work without letters from her employer. People would assume she was lazy, belligerent, or immoral. But the ripple of unease running through Mrs Higgins hinted at something more.
Mrs Higgins tangled her fingers together in front of her apron. ‘You have enough worries without picking up Lily’s troubles. Besides, she has her father to take care of her. Say what you will about George Lippert, but he has always been a devoted parent, even if he keeps questionable company now and then.’
Helena’s body tightened as Cynthia sat straighter in her chair. ‘Lily’s father is George Lippert?’
Mrs Higgins looked from Cynthia to Helena and back again. ‘Of course Lily’s father is George Lippert. I’ve known Georgie since we were little mites in leading strings. His mother, God rest her, was a dear friend to my own mother. It was my doing that got Lily here in the first place.’
A decision I’ll always regret. How can Georgie ever forgive me?
‘Has she returned to her father’s home? Only, I would love to send her that letter of recommendation. I’m not able to hire any new staff, but I want to ensure she finds a new position if she hasn’t already.’
Mrs Higgins’ face creased into lines of kindness. ‘Her father has a home in Cheapside. I’m sure she is quite happy there with her family. No need to worry yourself about job prospects for Lily.’
Helena once despised Cynthia’s stubborn nature, but now she was grateful to see the woman push forward. ‘I’d still love to send her a note and apologise. You don’t happen to have their address?’
Mrs Higgins’ eyes grew suspiciously glassy. ‘That’s ever so kind of you, my lady. I do wish you didn’t have to leave.’
‘The address, Mrs Higgins.’
The housekeeper sniffed, nodding so sharply, her white hat nearly bobbed off her head. ‘I will copy it down and bring it to you directly. I’m sure Lily will be ever so grateful.’ She gave a quick curtsy before turning and quietly shutting the door behind her.
Cynthia looked triumphantly at Helena. ‘We have an address!’ Her face immediately fell. ‘Poor Lily. What is she going to do when she finds out her father is a killer? Is there any chance what you heard from Sinclair isn’t true?’
Helena exhaled slowly. ‘When you asked him if he’d killed your husband, he said to us there were many others who had reason to murder Hubert, and then he clearly thought George Lippert’s name. While that isn’t exactly a smoking gun, it certainly puts him at the top of our suspect list.’
Cynthia nodded. ‘Then we must visit him. Today, I think.’
‘Uncle Lachlan won’t like that.’
‘He’ll be happy if we discover the killer.’
Helena didn’t miss the flash of excitement in Cynthia’s eyes, or the corresponding thrill fizzing through her veins. ‘Not if we get ourselves killed in the process.’
Cynthia stood and walked around the table, taking her seat next to Helena and grabbing both of her hands. ‘You won’t let that happen. You are a magnificent waterwitch. It’s George Lippert who should fear us, not the other way around. Besides, you have skills at deciphering truth from lies that your uncle does not.’
Helena raised a brow. ‘Are you using me for my magic?’ She said the question in jest, but no sooner had it escaped than fear, sudden and sickening, coursed through her. An old memory surged forth.
‘He’s using you for your magic, Mother. All he cares about are the potions you make. Potions he sells to line his own pockets. Can’t you see? He doesn’t love you.’
Willow grabbed Helena’s arm, fingers digging into her flesh painfully, but she refused to cry out. ‘You know nothing of love. He wants me. He needs me.’
‘He wants the riches your potions bring. He needs your power. That is not love. You are making love spells. I saw the ingredients. I know what that means. It isn’t right to steal someone’s will. You are breaking our most sacred oath forhim. We do no harm.’
The sting of Willow’s slap shocked Helena. Her mother had never hit her before. Tears welled.
‘I will break every oath I’ve made for him. That is what love demands.’
‘He is using you, Mother. Can’t you see that?’
