The Secret Pearl(111)

And of course it was not over. The scars would remain for a long time. And one fact would remain with her for a lifetime. He met her eyes across the table as Miriam talked, and saw doubt there and pain. And he wanted to reach out a hand to her and ask her what it was, how he might help her.

But he could not help her. He returned his eyes to his plate. When all the events of the past months had been sorted through, it would be obvious to her that he was the only person who had done her permanent harm. Perhaps the thought had already struck her.

He should take his leave immediately after luncheon.

“So you will take the cottage that used to be Miss Galen’s, Isabella?” Miriam Booth was saying. “And help me at the school, as we originally planned? That will be splendid for a while, will it not? Until other arrangements can be made, that is. Perhaps under the circumstances Lord Brocklehurst can be persuaded to consent to …” She smiled. “Well, perhaps he will not act quite the tyrant he has always been.”

“I will have to think, Miriam,” Fleur said. “Yes, I think that would be a good idea. I always did love Miss Galen’s cottage. All those roses!”

“Can’t you see that Isabella’s mind is in a spin, Miriam?” the Reverend Booth asked quietly. “She needs time to think about her future. I have to return to the village. This is my afternoon for visiting the sick. Are you coming with me?”

Miriam pushed her chair back and got to her feet. “Yes,” she said. “Unless you would like me to stay with you, Isabella?”

Fleur shook her head and smiled.

The Reverend Booth too got to his feet and looked inquiringly at the duke.

“I will begin my journey home this afternoon, then,” his grace said. “Would you care for a stroll in the garden first, Miss Bradshaw?”

“Yes,” she said without looking at him.

The Reverend Booth looked full at him, and the duke knew that he did not like the man at all.





“IT WAS GOOD OF YOU to come,” Fleur said, “and to do what you have done. Thank you, your grace.”

They were strolling side by side in the formal gardens, not touching. They had seen the Reverend Booth and Miriam on their way back to the village.

“You are not happy,” he said. “What is it?”

“Of course I am happy,” she said. “How could I not be? For several months I have lived with the conviction that I would hang sooner or later. It is not a pleasant prospect. One finds oneself wondering about all the morbid details. And I returned here yesterday to find everyone looking at me as if I were a murderer and a thief. It will be something to have my name cleared.”

“Yes,” he said, and walked beside her in silence for a while. “What is it?”

She did not answer for a long while. “I came here to try to come to terms with what happened,” she said finally, “or perhaps to look for some evidence to prove my innocence. It seems that I do not need that evidence any longer. But there are so many unanswered questions. And I have come up against a brick wall here.”

“Explain,” he said.

“My maid has gone to other employment,” she said. “She is the one who discovered the jewels. I wanted to know where the jewels were. Were they carefully hidden, or were they on top? If I were the thief, I would have to be dreadfully stupid to lay them on top, wouldn’t I?”

“Was your trunk locked?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” she said. “I was going only as far as the rectory.”

“And it was left in an untended gig outside the house?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, of course. I would have had to be very foolish to leave costly jewels in just such a way. I would surely have smuggled them out some other way or hidden them on my person. But I don’t know what the pieces were or how large they were. Anyway, Annie is gone and I cannot ask her any questions.”

“An annoyance,” he said. “I will have her found if it is important to you.”

“Mr. Houghton?” she said, smiling fleetingly. “No, that is not the main frustration. The worst thing is that I cannot find Hobson.”

“The valet?” he said. “He is not six feet beneath the churchyard?”

“He was taken to his own home for burial,” she said. “But no one seems to know where that is. The groom who took the coffin there has since gone to Yorkshire, and the coachman who drove Matthew there is still with him. It was Yardley, the man now in Yorkshire, who helped Matthew lay out the body and seal it in the coffin.”

“Was it, indeed?” he said.

“Somehow it is important to me to see his grave,” she said. “You see, I did not murder him, but I did kill him. Had I not been hysterical and pushed him, he would not have fallen and he would not have died. I killed him. I was the instrument of his death. Somehow I have to learn to live with that on my conscience. I have to come to terms with it. I have to see his grave.”