Page 9 of Ravished

"Who was Deirdre?" Aunt Effie demanded. "Your daughter?"

Mrs. Stone gulped back tears. "No, she weren't my kin. She was much too fine to be related to the likes of me. She was the Reverend Rushton's one and only child. I looked after her."

"Rushton." Aunt Effie reflected briefly. "Oh, yes. The previous rector of this parish. The one my dear brother replaced."

Mrs. Stone nodded. Her narrow mouth trembled. "Miss Deirdre was all the reverend had after her sweet mama died. Miss Deirdre brought joy and sunshine into this house, she did. Until the Beast destroyed her."

"Beast?" Felicity's expression was similar to the one she wore when she read one of her favorite novels of gothic horror. "You mean Viscount St. Justin? He destroyed Deirdre Rushton? How?"

"That lecherous monster," Mrs. Stone muttered, dabbing at her eyes again.

"Gracious." Aunt Effie looked stunned. "The viscount ruined the girl? Really, Mrs. Stone. One can hardly credit such a notion. The man is a gentleman, after all. Heir to an earldom. And she was a rector's daughter."

"He weren't no gentleman," Mrs. Stone stated.

Harriet lost patience. She turned on her exasperating housekeeper. "Mrs. Stone, I believe we have had quite enough of your dramatics for one day. You may return to the kitchens."

Mrs. Stone's watery eyes filled with anguish. " 'Tis true, Miss Harriet. That man killed my little Miss Deirdre just as surely as if he'd pulled the trigger on that pistol himself."

"Pistol?" Harriet stared at her.

There was a moment of shocked silence in the hall. Effie was speechless. Even Felicity seemed unable to phrase another question.

Harriet's mouth went dry. "Mrs. Stone," she finally said very carefully, "are you telling us that Viscount St. Justin killed a former occupant of this house? Because if so, I am afraid I must tell you that I cannot allow you to continue in your post here if you are going to say such awful things."

"But 'tis true, Miss Harriet. I swear it on my life. Oh, they all called it suicide, God rest her soul, but I know he drove her to it. The Beast of Blackthorne Hall is as guilty as sin and everyone in this village knows it."

"Good heavens," Felicity breathed.

"There must be some mistake," Aunt Effie whispered.

But Harriet looked straight into Mrs. Stone's eyes and saw at once that the woman was telling the truth, at least as far as she knew it. Harriet felt suddenly ill. "How on earth did St. Justin manage to drive Deirdre Rushton to suicide?"

"They was engaged to be married," Mrs. Stone said in a low voice. "That was beforehecame into his title. Gideon Westbrook's older brother, Randal, was still alive, you see. It was Randal who was the old earl's heir then, of course. Such a fine gentleman, he was. A true and noble heir for the Earl of Hardcastle. A man worthy of following in his lordship's footsteps."

"Unlike the Beast?" Felicity asked.

Mrs. Stone gave her a strange look and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Some even say Gideon Westbrook killed his own brother to get the title and the estates."

"This is fascinating," Felicity murmured.

"Unbelievable." Aunt Effie appeared dazed.

"If you want my opinion, it is obviously all rubbish," Harriet announced. But inwardly she was aware of a cold sensation in the pit of her stomach. Mrs. Stone believed every word of what she was saying. The woman had a pronounced flare for the dramatic, but Harriet had known the housekeeper long enough to be certain she was basically honest.

" 'Tis true enough," Mrs. Stone said grimly. "I promise ye that."

"Go on, Mrs. Stone. Tell us how the Beast—I mean the viscount—drove the lady to suicide," Felicity urged.

Harriet gave up any effort to forestall the story. She straightened her spine, telling herself it was always best to know the facts. "Yes, Mrs. Stone. Having told us this much, you may as well confide the rest. What, precisely, did happen to Deirdre Rushton?"

Mrs. Stone's hands tightened into fists. "He forced himself upon her. Ravished her, he did, like the Beast he is. Got her with child, he did. Used her for his own lecherous purposes. But instead of doing the proper thing and marrying her,he cast her aside. T'weren't no secret. Just ask anyone around the district."

Aunt Effie and Felicity were silent in stunned disbelief.

"Oh, my God." Harriet sat down abruptly on a small, padded bench. She realized she was clasping her hands so tightly together her fingers hurt. She forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath. "Are you quite certain of this, Mrs. Stone? He really did not seem the type, you know. In fact, I… I rather liked him."

"What would you know of the type of man who would do such a thing?" Aunt Effie asked with irrefutable logic. "You have never had occasion to meet one of that sort. You did not even have a Season because my brother, rest his soul, did not leave us enough money to finance one for you. Perhaps if you had gone to Town and been exposed to a bit more of the world, you would have learned that one cannot always distinguishthat sortof man at a glance."

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