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Her letter said goodbye, but… how can she simply walk away from us? We have love. We truly do love each other. This I know.
But the biggest question of all, and one that makes me ill just thinking of it, is—is Ember in danger? Will Richard hurt her?
He has to be angry for how we escaped. We burned down everything and left his body to go into flames with it. Would he punish Ember for it? Would he kill her in order to never let her truly be free? Would he chain her up someplace far worse than the cellar I was chained in? Is she suffering?
Is my poor wife suffering right now?
A knock on the door interrupts my morbid thoughts that are growing darker by the second.
“I want to be left alone,” I shout, hating that they can’t give me a moment to fucking grieve my wife leaving. “Give me a goddamn second please!”
“Christopher?” I hear Ms. Evans’s voice call from the other side of the door. “May I have just a moment of your time? Please? It’s important.”
I get up and open the door. It’s unlike Ms. Evans to be pushy and not give me privacy when asked. “What is it?” I ask, softening my voice as I allow her inside the room.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Ms. Evans says, her hands fiddling with each other in front of her. She avoids eye contact but eventually takes a deep breath and looks me directly in the eye. I see pain, fear, and even anger. So many emotions are dancing in the eyes of a woman I’ve come to love like family.
“What going on?”
“I’ve worked for your family for a very long time,” she begins. “I’ve seen you grow from a rambunctious little boy to a respectable man.”
I study her face, looking for signs of what she is clearly struggling and even procrastinating to tell me.
“What I’m about to tell you will most likely cost me my job. But I can’t in good faith stand by and allow what I know to remain a secret anymore. I’ve always been loyal. I would do anything for your mother… at least until now. I can’t be part of it. It’s wrong, and you have the right to know.”
“What’s wrong? What do I have the right to know?”
I know she’s talking about Ember without her saying so. I also know my mother never liked her and feels her leaving is good riddance. But seeing the turmoil blanketing every feature of Ms. Evans, makes me realize there could be more.
Much more.
“It all started with the straw,” she begins with shaky breath. “I caught her in the act. Your mother. She was placing straw in places that Ember would see. She was trying to convince Ember that Scarecrow and Papa Rich had been in the house. They never were; it was your mother doing it.”
“What?” Her words are like a slap to the face. “Why would she do something like that?” My mother could be a ruthless bitch at times, but never devious. Never evil. And her claws only came out for her enemies who, in many cases, deserved her wrath. There has to be some sort of miscommunication.
“I think she wanted to make Ember feel like she was losing her mind. She wanted you to think she needed mental help. Maybe you’d send her away to a mental institute. I know Louisa was researching many facilities and trying to find one that would be a good fit. Her goal all along was to get Ember out of your life.”
Sighing, I say, “I know she thought Ember needed psychological help, but… placing straw around the house seems farfetched. Are you sure? Did you actually see her do it?”
Ms. Evans nods. “She did it. I saw it with my own eyes. And Ember was such a sweet girl. She didn’t deserve to be treated the way she was. Your mother… she didn’t make her stay here easy.”
I know she didn’t welcome Ember, but—
“There’s more,” Ms. Evans blurts as if she had to or risk never telling me the truth.
I can’t process the idea of my mother tormenting Ember by trying to scare her with the straw, so I welcome hearing something else. Anything else.
“Louisa hired a private investigator to find Richard. Actually, she hired a few.”
I nod, not really surprised by the news. My mother has always been the type of woman to take matters into her own hands. In her eyes, if she wanted something done correctly, she’d do it herself… or hire someone to do it for her.
“She found Richard. Her hired investigators tracked him down, hiding with Scarecrow.”
“So, she knew where they were hiding all along and didn’t say anything? She didn’t let the authorities know?” I ask, stunned by the news. Why wouldn’t she help in having the man arrested? It makes zero sense as to why she’d keep his whereabouts a secret.
