AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We can’t just leave him here!” Hetty had shrieked before Stephen had torn her away from her cousin’s prone body, half carrying both her and Lady Julia, soaked and now silent with shock, towards to the Grange.
They’d done everything they could. They’d pounded his chest, Hetty had implored him as she’d shaken him, her hysteria rising, to wake up. But Edgar had gone. He was not coming back.
They stumbled up the stairs of the portico, hammering on the heavy oak front door, which miraculously opened when Stephen pushed it.
So much for security.
A flickering candle carried by a
trembling housemaid was followed by a branch of candles brought by the butler, and then Humphry, his gray hair sticking out from his nightcap, eyes bleary with sleep. Araminta appeared like a wraith by his side, the two of them staring silent, uncomprehending, at the sodden, bedraggled troupe at the bottom of the stairs before Hetty broke away from Stephen, screaming, “Edgar’s by the lake. Fetch Dr. Marsh. He fell in and now he can’t breathe. He wasn’t under the water for long. Not so very long. Someone must summon Dr. Marsh.”
It was Stephen who had the wits to soothe her while directing one of the servants to the stables. Thomas, the most trustworthy of the stable lads, was to be dispatched to fetch the doctor.
It was Stephen, also, who pushed Hetty before him toward the study, saying, “We need brandy,” before ordering dry linen and hot drinks to be brought directly.
“Why was everybody at the lake except me?” Araminta trailed after them, her tone suggesting affront at the implied insult to her rather than concern for Edgar, though she added as an afterthought, “I’m sure if he wasn’t under for long he’ll sleep it off. Dr. Marsh will do something for him. Edgar loves to gammon everyone.”
Stephen pushed Hetty into a chair, saying to Araminta under his breath, “There’s nothing Dr. Marsh can do for Edgar. Now see your sister drinks this.”
“Sybil...?” Humphry followed them into the room, removing his nightcap to rake his hands through his thinning hair.
She turned, tensing for whatever was to come, glad to have Stephen in her sights, admiring his deft handling of the situation while reminding herself that neither through inference nor gesture must she incriminate him. She’d pay twofold for her crimes if it would protect Stephen. She had no idea how Humphry might react to the truth.
“Yes, Humphry?” She did not look at him, distracted, she knew, absentmindedly covering the front of her torn nightdress with her shawl as she hovered over Hetty, who was still convulsing with sobs.
Then with a sigh, Sybil straightened and forced herself to attend to Humphry’s obvious confusion.
When she finally met his gaze, it was like looking at a stranger. Who was this man who’d sought her bed two hours earlier? Yes, he was the man who’d fathered her four children. The man she’d dutifully loved for twenty years despite knowing he did not love her. The man she’d loved until she discovered what love really was.
Unconsciously, she traced her belly with her hand. If she were with child, she’d keep Stephen’s identity secret if it killed her.
If it were necessary.
Again, as Humphry’s troubled, confused countenance blurred before her, she had no idea what to expect from him. Understanding? Compassion? Gratitude, even? Or rage. Simple rage.
She sighed again and touched the cool, smooth sleeve of Humphry’s silk banyan, as if to ground him as he came closer. “Lady Julia and Edgar went to the rotunda. I don’t know what happened, Humphry. I think Edgar must have fallen out of the boat as they were returning.”
They glanced at Hetty, the center of Stephen and Araminta’s attention as they forced her to drink the brandy. Everyone wanted to know what had happened. Such an extraordinary accident in the middle of the night.
“You must ask Hetty, Humphry,” she said. “I found her by the edge of the lake, up to her knees as she tried to retrieve Edgar herself.” She lowered her voice. “She must have followed Edgar and Lady Julia there.”
“And Stephen?”
Sybil flicked a glance at Stephen, glad he was still clad in evening clothes and that she was the only one dressed for sleep. It made her story as an innocent bystander more plausible. Really, she didn’t care if she had to swing for all their sins, but she must for the meantime concoct a plausible account of all their actions to Humphry.
Sybil shrugged. “No doubt he couldn’t sleep. There was a lot of excitement this evening.”
Humphry stared. Distractedly, he rubbed his eyes. “Lady Julia and Edgar?”
Sybil nodded. “One can only imagine Hetty’s distress. But perhaps you should ask Hetty. She’ll be questioned by the magistrate, no doubt. There’ll have to be an investigation. It’s best if she’s encouraged to tell us everything now.”
They crowded round to hear her tale. Araminta sat beside her and took her hand, stroking it, pretending sisterly solicitude, Sybil thought uncharitably. Araminta seemed more fascinated than shocked by the means of her erstwhile betrothed’s death.
“You mean you saw Lady Julia following Edgar across the lawn after he’d pretended to you he was going to bed?” She sounded outraged. “Then what happened?”
Hetty explained how she had stood at her window, vacillating between quietly retiring for the night or following Edgar and confronting him.
“I decided I had to tell him how I felt,” she said in a small voice. “Cousin Stephen had said it would be helpful—for both of us.”
