Emme's reaction was not what Rhys had expected. She met the magistrate's gaze directly, staring back at him until he relented and averted his own challenging stare. Her odd colored eyes unnerved many people but he found them oddly compelling.
After the small concession from the nearly apoplectic man, she replied, “His Grace was seated beside me and we conversed briefly before the seance began. He was still seated beside me when the doors opened and the candles went out. When lightning illuminated the room and Madame Zuniga's corpse, he was still beside me."
"It was dark, was it not, Miss Walters? In the confusion, isn't it possible that His Grace got up and bashed the woman with the candelabra and then resumed his seat beside you?"
Emme shook her head. “It is typical during seances, sir, for the participants to join hands during the ceremony. His Grace was seated to my right and Lady Phyllis to my left, next to Madam Zuniga. His Grace did not break contact with me during the confusion, nor did he make any movements that would indicate he had risen from his chair at any time."
The rotund man flushed, his face turning an unattractive shade of purple. “Miss Walters, I will have the truth!"
Her voice was steady and her stare cold as she replied, “You have the truth sir. I am sorry it is not more to your liking."
He looked as if he wanted to throttle her. A vein pulsed alarmingly at his temple and Emme feared Madame Zuniga's would not be the only corpse she encountered that evening. Finally, he managed to calm himself.
"Send in the next witness,” the magistrate ordered abruptly, dismissing her entirely. The sneering and the bark in his voice were all too familiar to Emme. The magistrate was a bully, much like her stepfather.
Rhys stood, and when he spoke, his voice was low and commanding. “Miss Walters is a guest in my home, Hornsby. She is not to be ordered about like a tavern maid by someone of your ilk. I'll be taking my leave of you now, and I will instruct my servants to have another witness brought in."
Emme watched as Rhys stepped around the desk and approached her. There had been command in his voice when he spoke to the magistrate, an authority that went far beyond his title, and revealed precisely what kind of man he had been on the field of battle. She knew that he had been a hero, but that heroism had been overshadowed by scandal. That was a terrible injustice and it needed to be corrected.
Rhys took her arm and led her from the room, pausing briefly to relay orders to the butler. Each guest would be questioned and following their questioning, each guest was to be escorted to their room, per the magistrate's edict. No one would be permitted to leave Briarwood Hall until the murderer was apprehended, or so the magistrate had claimed. Sir Walton Hornsby was a bitter man filled with vitriol and menace. He resented those who outranked him and derided those beneath him. He had only been appointed magistrate because no one else in the area wished to hold the position.
"I will escort you to your room, Miss Walters. Wandering these corridors alone is too much of a risk."
"So is sitting in a room full of people, apparently."
Rhys ducked his head. Amusement was not an appropriate response at such a time, but her caustic tone had a smile tugging at his lips nonetheless.
As the library doors closed behind them and he gestured to the butler to send in the next guest, he said, “Thank you for your vehement defense. I daresay that Hornsby would like nothing better than to have something to pin me with, after all these years."
Emme shook her head. “I simply told the truth, Your Grace. His agenda was not a factor."
"You were quite frightened by what happened tonight."
Emme nodded. “Yes. Initially, when I saw her slumped over, I thought it was simply part of her act, even down to the wind and the candles going out. I've been around any number of people who make a living by playacting at such a thing, and such tricks are common enough. When I realized the truth,” she shuddered delicately, “death is an ugly thing, Your Grace, and murder even more so."
"Be frank with me, Miss Walters. You obviously thought little enough of Madame Zuniga, deriding her as a charlatan. But the talent she professed to have is the same one that you are rumored to possess."
"And you are rumored to be a murderer, Your Grace. Gossip travels quickly and often bears little resemblance to the truth."
"But you do claim to have some sort of gift, do you not?” he pressed.
Emme pulled her hand from his arm as they reached her door. “It is not a gift, Your Grace. I normally do not speak of it, but since you are determined, and since it directly impacts you in this instance, I shall, indeed, be frank. I do see spirits, commune with them if you will. They come to me in my dreams. They often lead me to whatever it is they need me to find, whether that is answers, things left undone, or sometimes even the person responsible for their demise."