“But, earlier in the day, Gaston and I had a row. He…he’d increasingly shown a side of himself I did not care for in the slightest. But I tried to convince myself I was exaggerating his faults.”
“Like me,” Annabelle said.
“When you said you’d done that, I knew exactly how you felt. Sterling, of course, had told me who he saw when he looked at Gaston, and I suppose a part of me wanted to prove him wrong. And then there was the whole ordeal of facing a scandal should I call off the wedding.
“In the end, however, my common sense won out. I told Mama I planned to end things with Gaston and was trying to figureout the least damaging way possible. I think that afternoon, something I said must have clued him in.
“When he arrived with his—your--parents to collect us he was extraordinarily polite, doting on me, complimenting not only myself, but my mother. And then, before we left, I went up to my chambers to collect my reticule. To my surprise, he followed me.”
“He did?” Annabelle said in utter shock. “But that’s…hardly proper.”
“I know. As I told him. He laughed it off, saying he wanted to imagine me in my private chambers at the end of the day. Something to that effect. In any case, he got a good look before I shooed him. Then I took a moment before descending the stairs, to steady my nerves after he’d startled me.”
She gave Annabelle a long, steady look. “My new maid was there. She was a funny little thing. Sweet. Young. Enchanted with all things pretty and fashionable.”
The hair on Annabelle’s nape rose on end.
“Before I departed she told me to be careful. She told me she did not like the look of my intended. Can you imagine? A ladies’ maid speaking out of turn like that? But I allowed it because I could see she was truly worried for me, and after all, I had already made up my mind to end things.”
Annabelle swallowed. “What happened?”
“Just before intermission, Gaston slipped out to gather refreshments, and I made up my mind to leave. I could not keep up the pretense. I asked Mother to make my excuses and she agreed. As we had taken two carriages, ours and theirs, we decided I should take ours home and my parents would either ride home with them or hire a hackney, depending. I slipped out, called for ours. It took an exceeding amount of time, oddly. The groom blamed the crowds. But later, I wondered.”
Annabelle said nothing.
“The house was quiet and dark when I arrived home, save for strange thuds coming from upstairs, almost as if furniture was being rearranged. I ascended the stairs with caution, but as I reached the landing, I soon realized the thuds were coming from the vicinity of my chamber.”
Caroline’s lip began to quiver. Annabelle reached for her hand and squeezed.
“When I entered my antechamber, all seemed well. Then I heard sounds coming from my bedchamber. I ran to the door, threw it open. And what I observed shocked me to the core. The chamber was in disarray, and Gaston was there, on top of my maid. She was struggling and he was…attempting to have his way with her.”
“Saints preserve us,” Annabelle breathed.
“It turned out, he’d arrived earlier than I, and had slipped into my chamber to await me.” She swallowed. “But Babette had a bad feeling, so she went to investigate, and he attacked her instead.”
“Babette,” Annabelle choked-out, tears leaking from her eyes. “Dear Babette.” She was not surprised, having begun to suspect the maid’s identity. But hearing it confirmed was like a knife to her heart.
“Shall I go on?” Caroline asked.
“If…if you feel you can. If it is not too painful.”
Caroline nodded. “I want you to know the truth.”
“I’m listening,” she murmured, trying to convey her love with her eyes.
“I grabbed the first thing I could find—a candlestick off the mantel—and I hit him with it.”
“I understand. You had to. You had to save Babette.”
“I am not finished. He must have heard me, and somehow anticipated my swing, because he turned and the candlestick only glanced off of his shoulder. That’s when he came after me.”
Annabelle gasped. “My God. How utterly terrified you must have been.”
Caroline closed her eyes. “He leapt for me, and I ran. I’d barely made it into my antechamber when I heard the crash.” She opened her eyes and met Annabelle’s gaze. “Annabelle, his trousers were down. They must have tripped him. He fell, hard. His head slammed on the hearthstone, and he bled out.
“So you see, I know a thing or two about carrying the weight of taking another’s life,” Caroline said, solemnly.
“No. No that’s not right,” Annabelle insisted. “It wasn’t your fault. It washis.”
