Page 55 of Beyond the Grave
"Lord Harcourt?"
He nodded and drained his glass. He held it out for me to refill. I did. Whatever was in that decanter had loosened his tongue nicely.
"What about the mausoleum, Mr. Edgecombe?" At his frown, I added, "You implied that something happened up there."
"I can see it better from my rooms." He pointed up. "Third floor. Great view." He snorted. "With nothing else to do, I sit in this bloody chair all day and stare at the same bloody scenery. One evening, about a week ago, I saw two figures up there. The full moon was out, I remember, because I could see them quite clearly. They appeared to be fighting."
"Any idea who they might have been?"
"None."
"Did you ask your brother-in-law or the servants about it?"
"No. Why would I?"
Because it was something different, something interesting. But I didn't let him see my frustration at his lack of curiosity. "Thank you, Mr. Edgecombe. I appreciate you telling me. But may I ask,whyare you telling me? No one else seems to want to admit that Buchanan might have been here."
"It may not have been him."
"True, but it may well have been too."
"Perhaps no one else saw the commotion. Perhaps they don't sit by windows all day and all night. Or perhaps they're protecting the great lord and master." He drained the glass again, his fingers white around the tumbler.
"Do you hate him?"
He sucked air through his teeth. "Do you know my sister spent time in Bedlam?"
I gasped. "The lunatic asylum? Because she was so upset about the baby?"
He nodded. "He had her committed. By law, he can. By law, he's the only one who can get her out again, other than the doctors, but why would they when she brings in a tidy sum as a patient?" He drifted off as his eyes turned cloudy, dark.
"When was this?"
"About a year or so after the baby was born. She was troubled but not insane. She shouldn't have been put in there."
"Lord Harcourt came to his senses and got her out, though."
His lips twisted and his back teeth ground together. "Only because I demanded he do so. That place…what they did to her…it was inhuman. I dragged him there one day, and showed him what it was like. He'd only seen what the doctors wanted him to see before that—the relaxing garden, the gentle massages—but I forced my way through and showed him the cold bath room, the manacles on the beds, and the degrading things the so-called patients had to endure. He signed her out immediately, thank God, but I never forgave him. She did, but I haven't forgotten and I never will."
"Is that why he allows you to stay here?" I asked quietly, aware that I was treading on rocky ground. "Because he feels guilty?"
"Guilt?" He snorted. "No, he allows me to stay here because he's afraid I'll tell people what he did. He doesn't care too much for society convention, but even he knows how humiliating it would be for them both if it were discovered she spent a few weeks in an asylum. He had let everyone believe she'd gone to the seaside for some rest, you see, but I found out the truth. I'm the only one who knows the truth."
Dear lord, poor Marguerite. I knew little about asylums, except that the boys in my gang thought they were haunted. Edgecombe didn't paint a very nice picture. Manacles and cold baths didn't sound like they could cure much, let alone deep sorrow.
"Thank you," I said rising. "I appreciate your honesty."
His hand whipped out as I passed him and he grabbed my arm. "My brother-in-law would not like to know that I told you that."
"I won't tell him."
His fingers tightened. "I wish my sister had never married into this fucking mad family." A drop of spittle landed on his lower lip and he wiped it off with the hand that held his empty glass. "She was always a little simple, but now…" He shook his head. "They've got secrets, and not just the one about the baby. For one thing, the late Lord Harcourt was a blind fool for not seeing your friend, the dowager, for the gold digger she is."
"She's not my friend."
"No, I suppose she wouldn't be." Once again his gaze raked over me, and this time it was openly lewd. "She would never befriend a younger, prettier woman."
The door to the music room opened and Lincoln charged out, the butler on his heels. While Lincoln's glare was sharp enough to tear Edgecombe to pieces, Yardly's eyes went wide as he seemed to realize that I'd been questioning him.
