And if he is the killer, then he may already have made his escape, and the opportunity for justice may have vanished as completely as Minnie has.

  ***

  I don’t take the melatonin Dr. Chalmers prescribes me. Part of the reason is that I don’t entirely trust him, and part of it is that I wish to have an excuse to see him again in the morning. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I will have the weekend off. According to the hours posted on the front of his clinic, Dr. Chalmers takes Sundays and Mondays off, so he should be in the office tomorrow. Eliza will be there too, unfortunately, but I hope I can figure out a way to get a chance to talk to him alone.

  Without the sleep aid, restlessness takes me again. I don’t wish to snoop around the house after my uncomfortable experience in the attic. I doubt I’ll find anything helpful in one of the few unused rooms in the manor, so there’s no reason for me to wander and possibly alert the house.

  I decide to make myself some chamomile tea, so I head quietly to the kitchen and prepare a kettle. I stop it just before it boils and steep the tea, then carry the cup and saucer to the tearoom. I will miss this house when I leave. It’s not the vast cavern the Ashford estate is, but it’s large enough to be stately and laid out in an orderly and sensible fashion. Were I wealthy enough to afford a home like this, I could see myself retiring here. Oh well. I’ll find a nice cottage somewhere that will do instead.

  I reach the tearoom to find Oliver awake. It seems I’m not the only restless one.

  “Oh,” I say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake.”

  He smiles at me. “It’s fine. I should be asleep, but tonight is hard for me.”

  “Why tonight?”

  His smile becomes wistful, and he looks out the window. “This would be my second anniversary with Minnie.”

  I take the seat across from him. I’m fairly confident I’m on the right track with Dr. Chalmers, but if this is a chance to glean some new information, then I should take it. “You cared deeply for her, didn’t you?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think she’s only the first girl I ever sh—” He looks at me and blushes. “Ever loved. Other times…” He shrugs again. “Mum and Dad say that I was only a boy and that I’ll grow up and find someone better. I’m sure they’re right, but…” He taps his finger on his knee and falls silent.

  “The first love is always the loveliest to feel and the hardest to lose.”

  He nods. “Has anyone told you what happened before she disappeared?”

  “I’ve heard some rumors,” I say carefully. “I’m not sure I believe any of them.”

  He nods again. “Well, you shouldn’t. Minnie wasn’t kidnapped. She’s perfectly fine.”

  I am too stunned to answer for a moment. He notices my shock and smiles sadly. “I haven’t told anyone. I trust you won’t either.”

  “No,” I say, “of course not. But… you’re sure?”

  “Certain. I saw her leave myself.”

  Once more, I am too shocked to respond. He looks out the window and says, “The last night she was here, she and I talked. We had fought so much since I learned she was… well, I suppose you might as well know. She was pregnant.”

  I feign shock at the news. “Goodness!”

  “Yes, well, that wasn’t my initial reaction. The baby wasn’t mine, of course. I’ll spare you the gory details, but I knew it wasn’t mine.”

  “Yes, I… I think I understand.”

  “So, anyway, we had fought, but I was too tired to fight anymore. I didn’t love her anymore, but… I think maybe a part of me still did. I don’t know. Anyway, we talked on the porch, and she told me she was going to run away. Her parents were furious with her, my family hated her, including me and my sister, and the baby’s father evidently wanted her to get rid of the baby. She said she couldn’t handle being hated by everyone who had once loved her, so she was going to take the money she’d saved and make a new life for herself somewhere else. She was going to cut her hair, wear glasses instead of contacts, and work on changing her accent. She told me she wanted to tell me because she really did love me, and she was really sorry that things ended between us the way they did.”

  “My word,” I say, head reeling. Could Minnie’s murder not have been a murder after all?

  “So, we went to the pub and had a drink. Well, I had a drink. Several drinks, actually. Minnie didn’t, of course, due to her condition.”

  He sighed. “It was good. I felt like I did before everything, back when we were just friends and life wasn’t so complicated. Then I left her waiting for a cab. And…” He lifts his hands and lets them drop. “That’s how it ended. She was gone. I wish her well.”

  I sip some of my chamomile. It’s still too hot, and the liquid burns my throat. I focus on that pain in an attempt to center my thoughts.

  Eliza lied to me. She said that she and Minnie fought and that she let Minnie storm off alone instead of walking home with her. Why would she lie to me? Unless she thought Oliver was the killer?

  I turn back to Oliver to see him smiling sadly at me. His grief certainly seems real, but plenty of killers are genuinely remorseful.

  This is all too much. Too many people could have killed Minnie. Niall, Rupert, Eliza, Alistair, and now Oliver. Or she could simply have done what Oliver says. Honestly, his story makes sense. Many young women in her situation have done the same.

  But it’s too much. My head aches trying to think which of the many stories I’ve heard and pieced together myself might be true. If only I could let this go.

  “It’s a lot to take in, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry I told you. You’re here to teach Lucas, not to listen to the heartsickness of a young and still foolish man. I just… had to tell someone. Don’t tell my parents, will you? If they know that I allowed this family to suffer scandal to protect a promiscuous girl, they’ll be furious with me.”

  “I won’t tell them,” I say.

  I have no idea what I’ll tell anyone, or if I’ll even have anything to tell anymore. But it’s simpler to just agree.

  He nods and stands. “Thank you, Mary. And thank you for listening.” He looks out the window, a wistful expression in his eyes again. “Wherever she is, I do hope she’s happy.”

  He leaves me alone to wonder what I should do.

  I sigh. I’m too tired for this. Perhaps it was a mistake to get involved at all. The situation is so complicated that I can’t be sure if anything I’m doing is going to help avenge an innocent girl or merely embroil an innocent family in yet another scandal.

  I should focus on Lucas. I’ve neglected the poor young man. Perhaps it’s time to stop being a detective and start being a governess like I intended. Tragedy strikes daily, and Niall is right. I can’t pick and choose which tragedy inspires me to crusade. Leave that to others with more fortitude and intellect than I.

  I head upstairs. I don’t need the tea to exhaust me anymore. Tomorrow, I will once more be Mary Wilcox, governess. And may Minnie Montclair rest in peace, whether she does so alive or passed on.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I hope to spend the next day bonding with Lucas again—finally convincing myself that’s a better use of my time than trying to talk to Dr. Chalmers again—but after Veronica leaves for a brunch, Lucas tells me that he’s going out to take photographs. I offer to join him, but he explains that it would be better if he were alone.

  “It’s…” He blushes. “Well, I need to be quiet, or the subjects will be scared off.”

  “Ah. And you fear that I will alarm them, and they’ll fly off or scamper away.”

  He nods, reddening even further. “I’ll show you the pictures after, though. I can make another collage even.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” I say. “Though… perhaps we’ll keep the focus on living subjects this time.”

  He laughs. “Well, the dead ones can’t really scamper away, can they?”

  The lightness in his voice reminds me of the chill I felt upon first meeting him. I remember the girl in the wall again. I hadn’t thought about her since discovering the painting, but now I can recall the fear I experienced when he looked at me with his wide, flat eyes and warned me about her.

  He turns to leave, and I grab his arm. He winces and looks at me curiously, and I realize I’ve grabbed him too hard. I release him and ask, “Um…” I look around to make sure no one is left in the house to hear me, then ask, “Have you had any more visits from the girl in the wall?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Not since Mum got rid of the painting.” His eyes widen. “You haven’t started seeing her, have you?”

  “No,” I reply quickly. “No, I just… I was just concerned for you, is all.”

  “Oh. Well, no. I think she’s gone.”

  “Yes,” I say, relaxing a little. “I think she is.”

  “Well… I’ll see you later.”

  He gives me another wary look before heading outside with his camera. I sigh and remind myself that I’ve decided not to be a detective anymore.

  Of course you have, Annie’s voice taunts me. Easier that way, right? You don’t need to risk shaking up your comfortable life over some dead girl who won’t even be around to appreciate it.

  “Well, what am I solving?” I say aloud. “How am I helping anyone? It’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.”

  Another pithy saying. You’re full of them, aren’t you?

  “How can I help anyone?” I say. “Who will benefit from anything I do? I’m not a detective. I’m not a police officer. I’m in over my head here. I’ll only make things worse.”

  Is that what you told yourself when you let me go?

  “Well, damn it, it’s true!” I shout.

  My voice echoes, and I stiffen. The family is gone, but Lucas might still be close enough to the house to hear my outburst.

  I clam up and head outside to clear my head.

  I am not a detective, I remind myself as I walk through the grounds with no particular aim. I am a governess and a teacher. I will help no one by meddling.

  Still…

  I helped the Ashford children. I found their father’s murderer. I gave them peace.

  But Minnie is gone. Oliver’s story makes the most sense. She is somewhere safe, living a life of freedom for the first time.

  Still…

  Eliza lied to me. Why would she lie? To protect her brother, possibly, but Oliver was adamant he told no one else. Alistair might have lied, but would Eliza protect him just because he was a distant cousin? Rupert might have lied, but why would he not simply say he knew nothing? Why sic me on Alistair?

  And why would anyone worry about what I think at all? None of this makes sense! I want to believe Oliver is telling the truth, but the lies… they’re everywhere! I don’t know what or whom to trust anymore. Even Lucas could be hiding something.

  Lucas…

  A horrible thought occurs to me. Lucas prowls the grounds frequently. Lucas knows hidden places. Lucas has an interest in dead things. Lucas was having nightmares about Minnie. Lucas, Veronica’s favorite, tolerated by the elder two but not liked.

  Lucas with his wide-eyed stare and his cameras and his introverted, repressed personality, the kind that in so many cases leads to outbursts of violence. Had he killed Minnie? It seems ridiculous, but of all of them, he’s the one who could get away with it. He would know where to take her and where to bury her. He takes pictures of dead animals, and while it’s not quite the same as torturing them, it’s possible he would escalate to taking pictures of dead people.

  And who better to start with than the disgraced former friend of his sister who cheated on his brother, possibly with the town doctor who is also his mother’s former lover and his sister’s boss? Someone who not only no one would miss but whose loss they may even appreciate?

  It’s a loose thread of reasoning but for the fact that if anyone here would know where to hide a body, Lucas would be the one. Other than Niall, he’s the one who knows the grounds best. That makes Niall a suspect again too, but Niall’s had two chances to kill me, and both times, he knew I suspected him.

  I look up and realize I’ve made my way to the south woods again. I try to remember where Lucas showed me that hunting blind. Would he have buried Minnie somewhere out there or somewhere he’s never mentioned?

  I walk through the woods, not quite daring to call his name. If he knows I’m out here alone, would he decide to eliminate me as a threat just to be safe? Would he think that I suspect him?

  I look for signs of a body. I have no idea what exactly I’m looking for, but…

  I stop and sigh. I’m letting my mind run away with itself. Lucas is almost certainly not the killer, but if he is, I won’t stumble onto a body by traipsing across six hundred acres of land. I’ll need more information.

  Bloody hell, have I decided to be a detective again?

  I head back toward the house, taking a long route that will lead me through the east garden and then the central courtyard. Nothing in the orderly rows of flowers and shrubs suggests to me that a body could be buried underneath.

  Gradually, my momentary zeal subsides. I remembered the girl in the wall and allowed that to start a cascade of assumptions that led to Lucas somehow being not only Minnie’s killer, but my killer too. It’s a little absurd, really.

  I sigh and look up at the sky as though God himself might open the heavens and reveal the answer. But there’s no answer to be found there.

  I just need to calm myself. Focus on my job. These episodes will leave me in time.

  I am nearly at the house when I see Lucas coming out of the garage. As he closes the garage door, I frown and head in his direction instead.

  “Lucas?”

  He cries out and flinches backward.

  I meet his eyes. “What are you doing? Did you leave the grounds?”

  His cheeks turn bright red. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you I left.”

  I stare at him. “Where did you go?”

  “I…” He looks around, then lowers his voice. “I had a suspicion about Eliza and Dr. Chalmers. I wanted to confirm it.”

  My eyes widen, and the color leaves my cheeks. “What? What suspicion?”

  He narrows his eyes. “You promise you won’t tell?”

  “I…” I hesitate. It would be easy enough to lie to him, but I’ve had enough of lies. “I can’t promise that.”

  He frowns again. “Will you at least promise not to tell anyone you got the photographs from me?”

  “Yes. Yes, that I can promise.”

  “Good.”

  He takes his camera bag off of his shoulder and opens one of the pockets. He pulls out several Polaroid photos. “I took these about a half hour ago.”

  He shows them to me, and I gasp and flush beet-red. “Oh, goodness!”

  “I know,” he says. “I shouldn’t be taking these pictures of my sister. Obviously I won’t keep them, but…” He shifts his feet and says, “It’s wrong, right? I mean… it’s bad for her.”

  “It is,” I agree. “Very bad.”

  The pictures prove that at least one of my suspicions is correct. There’s no mistaking now that Eliza Carlton and Dr. Rupert Chalmers are engaged in a romantic relationship.

  And if Dr. Chalmers got Minnie pregnant, that would infuriate Eliza, wouldn’t it? Not to mention, Dr. Chalmers would be terrified of the repercussions of such news. Both of them would have a motive to kill her. Both of them would want the pregnancy covered up.

  And neither of them would want Oliver to suspect that it was Rupert who seduced his girlfriend. Neither of them would want Veronica and Sebastian to know the truth.

  But they suspect. They must. Or else why would Veronica have had the painting removed? Why would Sebastian order that her name not be spoken? I had thought it was simply the sensitivity of the wealthy to scandal, but now I can see the very real chance of a scandal should the truth become known. Now I can understand why Sebastian would insist that there be no search when the chance existed that instead of clearing their name, it would prove that they were murderers.

  “I’m not sure what to do with these,” he says. “I want her to stop before she gets hurt, but I don’t know if I should tell my parents or Eliza or what. What should I do?”

  I have no idea what I’ll do, but I know exactly what Lucas should do. “Give the photographs to me,” I say. “Tell no one what you saw. Don’t take any more pictures of them. Let me think of a way to handle this so that you’re protected. In the worst case, I’ll simply be fired and sent away. I’m only a servant, after all.”

  “But I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  “You stand to be in far worse trouble,” I remind him. “Please. Let me handle this.”

  He thinks a moment, then nods and hands me the photographs. I place them in my coat pocket, then put my hands on his shoulders. “Remember. Tell no one.”

  “I’ll remember.” He smiles. “Thank you, Mary. Please be careful.”

  I suppose I’m not done with lies just yet because I return his smile and say, “I will.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  The rest of the day passes in a blur. With his burden removed, Lucas returns to his photography, this time walking the grounds and taking pictures for the collage he promised me. I drink enough tea to leave my hands shaking by dinner time and sift through everything I’ve learned about Minnie’s disappearance.

  Eliza and Dr. Chalmers are romantically involved. Eliza works as his secretary now. Before then, Minnie worked for him, and she and Dr. Chalmers were also romantically involved. Minnie became pregnant with his child, and he urged her to abort. She didn’t, and he redacted the proof anyway. Either she walked safely into the future, as Oliver claims, or she was kidnapped and murdered.

  It’s possible she did leave, and Oliver spoke the truth. But if so, then why the lies? Why act as though she was taken with foul play by some unknown party? Why try to convince me that Alistair is the killer?

 

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