Haunting Violet
Page 77

I couldn’t very well stand about a dark house all night, especially not next to a woman I had reason to know was hiding something. I remembered what Elizabeth had said about hairpins and locks. I pulled one of the pins from my hair and dropped to my knees. I slid the pin into the lock and pressed my ear to the brass plate securing the handle to the door. I jiggled the pin, listening carefully for a click. It took longer than I’d expected, but eventually I heard a satisfying snick.
Caroline pushed past me before I could stop her. Tabitha was huddled in the corner, her straggling hair sticking to her damp cheeks. She didn’t flinch away from her governess. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.
“Tabitha,” I said softly. I had no idea what I was expected to do. Tabitha didn’t even like me. She was clutching the pearl ring I had found in the pond the day she’d threatened to set the dogs on us.
“I didn’t want to believe you,” she croaked. She’d clearly been sobbing for hours; her voice was raspy, her eyes swollen. Her pulse was fluttering frantically under the thin china of her skin.
“It’s my fault,” Caroline wept into her hands.
“I knew it.” My temper flared.
Tabitha blinked wretchedly. “Caro, what are you saying?”
“We knew it was wrong, but we couldn’t help ourselves.”
“Peter?” I asked. “Tabitha, come away.”
Caroline nodded miserably. “I love him,” she said. “I never meant for it to happen. You don’t choose these things.”
I gaped at her. “You do choose whether or not you drown some poor girl in a pond, you daft cow.”
“What?” She looked confused.
“You and Peter killed Rowena! The trout landed on you!”
She had the gall to look insulted. “I most certainly did not!”
Now I was the one who was confused. “You didn’t?”
“No!”
“Then what’s your fault exactly?”
“Peter. We had an affair.”
Tabitha sat up a little straighter. “You? And Peter? And what about the fish?”
At least that explained why Peter had been so rough with me the night of the séance. He’d been protecting his lover, no doubt afraid I knew more than I should.
“We knew it was wrong.” Caroline sniffled. “He was engaged to Rowena and I’m just a governess. But she broke off the engagement … and then she drowned, and I swore to myself I’d take the best care of Tabitha that I possibly could.”
“I don’t understand,” I said finally. “If you didn’t kill her, who did?”
“Kill her? It was an accident.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“It’s not safe here,” Mr. Travis said urgently. “We have to leave, all of us. Right now.”
Tabitha blinked. “What’s he doing here?”
“We have to go,” Mr. Travis said again. He turned to me. “Rowena threw the dead trout at her uncle. It slid toward Caroline—maybe Rowena was taking a poke at her because of Peter—but it started in front of Sir Wentworth.”
Bollocks.
He was right.
Tabitha began weeping again. “She was in love.” She rocked backward and forward, as if she were still in the cradle, her knees drawn up to her chest, her hands clutched tightly together. I could see where the ring made a dent in her skin. “You seemed so certain,” she sobbed at me. “So I went through her things. I hadn’t been able to, until today. I just couldn’t bear it. She was my best friend.” She sobbed harder, her words incoherent.
“Tabitha,” I leaned over her, shook her shoulder. “Tabitha, you have to focus.” I tried to find the balance between stern and compassionate.
“I went through her hope chest.” She hiccupped. She was still pressed against the wooden chest. Rowena’s name was painted across the front, with little daisies. “I found love letters.” She pushed a bundle of paper toward me. I glanced at Mr. Travis. His fingers twitched as if he longed to grab them from her.
“I’ve been trying to pretend everything is normal, but it’s not. Uncle’s been drinking more and he won’t even consider letting me go to London. I’ve been cooped up in the country for months. I don’t think he’ll ever let me get married; he wouldn’t even let Frederic and Peter visit. He got so mad. And today he’s … different.” She showed us the ring again. “It was Rowena’s favorite.”
“I gave it to her,” Mr. Travis murmured.
“I asked my uncle for it after the funeral. He said she was wearing it when they buried her.”
“So he lied to you about it.”
“Yes. And when I asked him about it this morning, he got so angry. I’ve never seen him like that. I didn’t know what else to do, so I locked myself in here and had Caroline fetch you. I was so scared he’d …” She stopped, gagging on more tears. “And I’m so tired.” She blinked at me, smiling foolishly. Caroline and I frowned at each other.
“Is she ill?” I asked.
Caroline shook her head. Tabitha giggled, then burst into tears again. I crouched in front of her. “Tabitha, look at me.” She looked up obediently. Her pupils were constricted, her skin clammy. “She’s taken laudanum,” I said grimly. I’d seen Mrs. Gordon and Miss Harington in a similar state often enough.