Page 89 of The Case of the Curate

“Yes, but…Miss Nye, Rupe? Seriously?”

“Oh yes. I’ve met women like her before. Spinsters usually, or neglected wives, determined to be useful because their sense of self-worth is all tied up with that aim. Girls are brought up with it from birth—usually centered on a husband. You know that. It was certainly dinned into my sisters.”

For an instant, Kate looked stricken, and he wished he’d worded it differently. He wanted so much more for her. She dropped her gaze to the little broken necklace now untangled and resting in her palm.

“It’s economic, too,” he said, grasping his previous train of thought. “She is dependent on her brother for everything. She runs his home and his life, as his trusted secretary and general drudge. He is the source, no doubt, of all her social invitations and friendships. When he was married, she wouldn’t have accompanied him to parties like this one. His wife would have come instead.”

Kate’s eyes flickered back up to his, wide with the beginnings of understanding. “Possibly even when he was betrothed for the second time, he would have taken Lady Lilias, his wife in training, not his spinster sister. Do you mean…? Oh Rupert, surely she didn’t kill them? How?”

“I have no idea, but no foul play was ever alleged.”

“A riding accident did in Lady Lilias. I suppose that could have been arranged.”

“And no one would suspect his dotty old sister. The same with his wife’s death. We don’t know that there was anything suspicious about their deaths, and we’ll certainly never prove now that Miss Nye was involved with either.”

“No… But she had no such reason to kill Dinah, did she?” Kate argued. “A mere maid was no threat to her. Neither was the actress or whoever she was, the scandalous female pursued by Otteridge as well as Nye when they were young—do you think Miss Nye killed her too?”

“I don’t even know who she was or how she died,” Rupert admitted. “But according to Lewis—and even Vic the boot boy—Dinah was afraid of someone by Tuesday that she hadn’t been afraid of the last time I spoke to her. What if she knew Nye of old and accepted the dagger from Lewis to protect herself from his advances? Nye could have accosted her while she unpacked his things—perhaps Dinah even threatened him then with the dagger. If she saw that, Miss Nye would have protected him rather than Dinah.”

“But Dinah hadn’t hurt him. She wasn’t a threat.”

“She could have been if Nye had made a fool of himself over her. I doubt either his wife or his betrothed truly threatened Miss Nye either, except in her own mind, in her own vision of herself.”

“But that’s…” Kate trailed off, her frown slowly fading.

“Mad?” Rupert suggested. “It’s come up before. She is, in my opinion, at least a little. I would have called her eccentric, but…” He gestured to the shoes, the mud, and the locket in her hand. “It’s evidence, Kate. The only evidence we have.”

“There’s no gun,” Kate pointed out.

He shrugged. “Chadbon’s gun room isn’t locked. Women can shoot too.”

“I know,” she said impatiently. “Amelia’s husband showed me how.” She scowled. “But Miss Nye likes you, Rupert. And you could have hanged for Dinah’s murder.”

“I doubt she likes me enough to care. In any case, she wouldn’t have known I’d been arrested. No one did, except the Chadbons and Remington and you.”

He could see her mulling it over, reluctant and horrified—and gradually, he was stupidly touched to see, outraged.

She drew in her breath. “Very well, let’s say you’re right. What should we do now? I doubt Chadbon will believe us.”

“Catch her in the act,” Rupert said, taking out his flask. Actually, it wasn’t his; it was the one she’d given him in gaol. He unstopped it and took a thoughtful drink before wiping the lip on his shirt sleeve and passing the flask to Kate. “She still wants you out of the way.”

Her lips twisted into a smile, half sardonic and half nostalgic. “Am I bait again?”

Chapter Eighteen

They left Miss Nye’s room via the connecting door to her brother’s chamber. After locking it behind them, they walked from there to the mercifully empty passage and parted on the first-floor landing of the east staircase.

“All clear?” Rupert asked, unusually serious.

“Yes,” Kate said crossly, then softened her ill humor with a smile. There was no point in arousing his suspicions that she would do anything other than follow his instructions to the letter. So far as she could remember, she never had, but she was certainly not going to remind him of the fact. “If I learn anything from Sir Colin that means we’re wrong, I’ll get Grissy to tell you.”

“And then you’ll stay in your own chamber with the door locked.”

“I remember. Rupert?” she added as he turned away toward the east staircase. He glanced back. “Be careful.”

He grinned, almost her old playmate again, and something inside her ached for those uncomplicated days.

She would not lock the door behind him, for after he’d spoken to Sergeant Salter, who was apparently lurking on watch outside, he would need to get back in again. She would have to make sure that Kemp didn’t lock the door as he had last night.