The Secret Pearl(106)

And she had understood that it was no momentary decision on his part. It was unlike him to have his valet with him in a downstairs room. She had wondered why Hobson was there, pretending to be busy with something at the far side of the room. But she had understood finally.

And fear had mingled with her fury. She had seen the look Matthew had directed at Hobson and had felt rather than heard the man come up behind her. She had known exactly what was about to happen to her.

She still could not recall the rest, even staring as she was at the place where it had all happened. Just someone screaming and flailing her arms. And Hobson lying on the floor, his head sliding from the corner of the hearth, his face ashen, his eyes staring upward. And Matthew leaning over him, kneeling beside him. And looking up at her.

“I hope you are satisfied, Isabella,” he had said in a queer, tight voice. “You have murdered him.”

And panicked flight. And the small measure of reason somewhere at the back of her mind that told her she could not go to Daniel or Miriam or to anyone she knew—because she was a fugitive from the law, a murderer who would be hanged if caught.

“It was not reason but the devil who counseled you so, Isabella,” Daniel’s quiet voice said from behind her, and she realized that she had spoken all her memories out loud.

“Oh, Isabella,” Miriam said, her voice full of distress. “How you have suffered. And what a villain Lord Brocklehurst is. I always thought him guilty only of being a tyrant. He is the one who deserves to hang. No, Daniel, I mean it. Every word of it. And then he put the jewels in Isabella’s trunk just in case the murder charge was not quite enough.”

The Reverend Booth offered his arm and they returned to the salon. Fleur wished he were not quite so proper in his behavior. She needed badly to be held in his arms, to rest her head on his shoulder. But it was a pointless thought anyway. Even if he did not believe her guilty of murder and theft, there was that other thing now to set her forever apart from him.

There was no point in loving Daniel any longer.

She told them everything, omitting only the way she had met the Duke of Ridgeway and the real reason for Peter Houghton’s being at Miss Fleming’s employment agency.

“So I came home,” she said when she had come to the end of her story. “I suppose Matthew will be here tomorrow, or perhaps even later tonight. I suppose I will be in prison somewhere by this time tomorrow.”

“Nonsense,” Miriam said briskly. “But you must come to the rectory for tonight, Isabella. You will be safer there.”

Fleur shook her head. “No,” she said. “I am staying here. But I will come tomorrow morning. I want to see Hobson’s grave. I must see it. Was his funeral well-attended, Daniel?”

“It was not held here,” he said. “His body was sent away to the town where he was born.”

Fleur frowned. “But where?” she said. “Oh, I must find out. I must see his grave. I don’t think I will quite be able to accept the reality of it all until I do. I did not mean him harm, you know. I was terrified, and I suppose I wanted to hurt him so that I could get away. But I never wanted him dead.” She closed her eyes. “Can you find out where he was taken, Daniel?”

“I don’t know how,” he said. “I think it best if you stay away from there anyway, Isabella. If he has family members there and they see you and find out who you are, they will suffer greatly.”

She looked down at the hands in her lap.

Miriam patted them briskly. “Enough for tonight,” she said. “You must be exhausted, poor Isabella. And if you will not come to the rectory, then we will come back here as soon as possible in the morning to help you face Lord Brocklehurst when he arrives.”

The Reverend Booth got to his feet. “That sounds like the best plan,” he said, “if you are sure you will not come with us. Sleep well, and try not to worry. I will speak myself in court if I must, and give you a good character.” He lifted one of her hands to his lips. “Good night, Isabella.”

“Good night, Daniel,” she said.

Miriam kissed her and hugged her.

For the first night in a long while, Fleur slept soundly, undisturbed by either dreams or nightmares.


THE DUKE OF RIDGEWAY put up at the village inn for the night. He could have journeyed on to Heron House, but it would have been close to midnight by the time he arrived there, and he decided to wait until the morning. She was in no great danger. He knew he was ahead of Lord Brocklehurst, even if that gentleman had decided to return to his home.

Besides, he did not think that Brocklehurst would try anything too foolish as far as Fleur Hamilton was concerned. Fleur Bradshaw. Isabella Fleur Bradshaw.