Page 85 of The Curse of Penryth Hall
I’d been wrong. Judged her. Blamed her. Thought her the villain in my play due to my own stubborn inability to let go ofthe past. And my failing would doom us both. One heartbeat. Then another. My chest barely moved at all as I counted the seconds waiting for the moment when Mrs. Martin’s tenuous grasp on reality finally snapped.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHTFly Away, Fly Away Home
“ALICEMartin!” Ruan’s voice roared from behind me, bringing with it a peculiar blend of relief and terror. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?!”
With the knife pricking at my throat I was hoping he wouldn’t startle her and cause the blade to slip. I was rather fond of my neck, even if I was contemplating my own mortality just seconds before.
“They’ve tried to take my Georgie!” Her voice cracked as her muscles tightened around me. I leaned deeper into her body. To think, I’d found her a charming woman. This did not bode well for my judgment.
“That’s not your George and you well know it. Look at him, Alice. Let go of the girl and look at the child.” Ruan’s voice took on a slightly softer edge. Alice moved me toward the cradle with a jerk.
He stood there motionless, hands open, arms outstretched. “Let her go, and look at the baby.”
Alice’s grip on my belly tightened.
“George is dead, Alice. He’s dead. You’re mistaken. Your mind is clouded. Listen to me.”
Don’t remind her, Ruan.He shot a glance at me. His peculiar eyes showed something in their depths. Acknowledgment. He heard me. I knew it then. He gave me a slow steady nod, the riot of my pulse drowning out all other sound.
“He’s not dead, he’s…” She turned her head to look at the cradle when the air in the room took on that same electric scent. Sharp and crisp. The one I’d first noticed in the copse with Ruan. Then I’d felt it again when we were examining Sir Edward’s body in the cellar.
Ifelthim. It.
Whateveritwas.Itbegan with the gradual softening of her grasp on my belly, the knife falling limply to her side. Followed by the tremulous breath she drew in that lifted the hairs on my neck with her exhalation. In an instant her grief washed over her, flooding through me like a dam break by extension. And at last the knife clattered to the floor at her feet.
“He’s Georgie’s boy…” Alice turned to Tamsyn, her face stricken, before looking back to me. “Oh God, what have I done?” Mrs. Martin touched the scabbed-over cut on my brow uncertainly. “I almost killed you, maid.” Her unblinking eyes searched my face as if she’d woken from a dream and could not quite understand what had come to pass.
Ruan had done something. He remained there immobile, hands outstretched, eyes unnaturally bright with that same intense expression he’d worn in the copse. She began to repeat herself. Nonsensical words I couldn’t make out, nor did I care.
I dropped down, scooping up the blade, and hurried to Tamsyn’s side, cutting at her bindings. Nothing else mattered but freeing her. The knife, sharp as it had been against my flesh, took ages to make its way through the worn hemp. As the last bit broke free, Tamsyn scrambled down from the chair, sending it tumbling in her haste to reach Jori. She scooped him against her chest, pressing frenzied kisses to his mop ofdark curls. He wrapped his chubby arms around her neck, and the two of them slid to the floor.
It was done.
Done. Yet I couldn’t quite believe it.
Alice stood frozen in the middle of the room, her hands limp at her sides. She didn’t move. Didn’t utter a word. She simply looked at Ruan with that familiar thousand-yard stare that I’d seen during the war.
“We should tie her up, I suppose?” I asked tentatively.
He nodded warily as he watched Alice. It seemed neither of us quite knew what to do next. “And then we’ll wait on Enys.”
“No.” Tamsyn’s chin rested atop her son’s dark curls. Even Alice turned at the sound of her voice. “There will be no more bloodshed. I’ve had my fill.” The red marks at her neck where the rope had chafed were already visible against her skin. “You will not have my child. You will not have my life. Do you understand me, Alice Martin? But neither will I have your blood on my hands.”
The older woman sucked in a sharp breath. “I’ll hang either way. I’ve killed a baronet. But after what he did to my sister. To his own uncle!” The silence in the room crackled as we all watched Alice, Ruan’s arms now folded across his chest. The familiar divot formed deep between his brows. “Someone had to do it. He couldn’t get away with it.”
Tamsyn looked up suddenly in surprise. “Get away with what?”
I tried to remember what Mrs. Penrose had said about the previous killings, and then it struck me—the meaning behind Alice’s words. “Alice, do you mean to say that Edward had a hand in what happened here thirty years ago?”
Her face was wet as she gazed upon Tamsyn, almost as if she sought forgiveness for her actions. “I was only a girl then, mind. Promised to my Benedict. We was to wait to wed untilhe’d managed to purchase a bit of land of his own. To set us up proper.” Alice took in a shaky breath. She turned toward the open window. The sweet late-summer breeze causing the heavy curtains to sway ever so gently. “Joseph Chenowyth was a handsome man and he turned our Lizzie’s head. It wasn’t like it was with Sir Edward, his uncle was a decent man. A good one. He’d been widowed for years, and I like to think my sister made him happy. She was beautiful, Lizzie was, with hair just like that.” She pointed to the back of Jori’s head. “All roan curls and bright eyes, eyes that could put the sun to shame.”
Tamsyn ran her hand over the back of her son’s head, her own eyes glistening.
This was all fine and well and touching, but it didn’t take away the fact she’d killed a man. I folded my arms across my chest and wet my lips, waiting for her to continue.
“Their love was a scandal before the marriage to say the least.” She let out a cold laugh that settled in my veins. “But they loved each other, and she found herself with child. Sir Joseph couldn’t deny the lure of having himself an heir at last. It was his greatest dream.” She pressed her eyes shut hard against the memories.
“But dreams never last, do they, Mrs. Martin?” I took a step nearer to her. Ruan shot me a warning glance, halting me in my tracks.
