Page 94 of An Unwilling Earl
“I will push as hard as I can.”
Feeling defeated, Charlotte climbed into the hansom that Jacob had flagged down and looked dejectedly out the window.
“What if they’re right,” she said.
“Who?”
“The police. The studies. O’Leary. What if they’re right and it is some vagrant or deranged person and not my cousin at all? Maybe he stopped with just the cats.”
“I think…” Jacob stared out the window at the scenery rolling by. “I think that at some point your aunt broke Edmund. Maybe he was broken from the beginning, or maybe she wore him down over time, like a creek smooths the ragged rocks. Her constant badgering, her continuous lecturing on the evils of men and how sinful they are. And then there are the women who lead the men into sin. I can see where that would scare a boy into thinking that all women are sinful and a threat. Maybe a rage has built inside of him, or it could have been guilt. What age was he when he destroyed your doll?”
Charlotte had to think about that. “I don’t know, maybe sixteen years.”
“Maybe he had this rage inside of him, and he didn’t know what to do with it.”
“But why my doll?”
“Who knows? It could have been anything that triggered him to do that. You said that his mother had just finished yelling at him. Maybe he was angry, and he walked past your room and saw the doll. It was an innocent object with no feelings, and therefore safe.”
“Or maybe he was mad at me and wanted to get back at me.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Because I was female. It couldn’t be because I replaced him in his mother’s affections because that was definitely not the case.”
“I think the point is that we never know what our actions can do to a person in their formative years.”
“Are you saying that my aunt created a monster?”
“Maybe.”
The hansom pulled up to their house, and Jacob exited, taking her hand to help her down. As they climbed the steps Charlotte was startled to find Suzette sitting there, a large bruise purpling her eye.
Suzette stood slowly, wincing, her eyes darting around fearfully. She looked like a different person than when Charlotte and Jacob had left her in the rookery. Thinner, frightened, sick.
“Suzette?” Charlotte asked. “What happened to you?” One eye was bloodshot, a ring of purple and blue bruises around it. “Come inside.”
Charlotte led a silent Suzette into Jacob’s front office while shooting Jacob a concerned look.
“I’ll ask Mrs. Smith to bring some tea.” Jacob disappeared down the hall.
Charlotte sat Suzette in one of the chairs and knelt in front of her. “Tell me what happened.”
Suzette began to cry, huge sobs that shook her thin frame. Charlotte handed her a handkerchief from her reticule.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” she said between sobs.
“You’re welcome here.”
“The maid called you her ladyship. Is that true? Are you a lady?”
Charlotte hesitated. She and Suzette had never shared their past, had never told each other where they had come from or why they were in the rookery. It had been a time of survival, and Charlotte had guarded her identity.
“I am the granddaughter of a marquess.”
Suzette wiped her eyes. “I always knew there was more to you than a rat in the rookery. A true lady, huh?”
“I wasn’t raised as one, and truthfully I don’t even know if I qualify as a lady. My mother was one.” Charlotte hesitated. “Mrs. Smith calls me a lady because I married Jacob.”
