Page 13 of The Secret of the Three Fates
I leaned forward, interest piqued. “The Campbells? Lucy was a Campbell. Is it the same family?”
“Aye. They’ve had nothing but bad luck for generations.”
“Bad luck?” I let out a startled laugh. “What all has happened here for you to say that?”
“Whathasn’thappened here…” He inclined his head toward the ruins behind me, which were little more than two turrets and three broken-down walls that looked liable to crumble at any moment. I’d been told the old castle burnt in the mid-eighteenthcentury, replaced by the current structure some decades later. “I firmly believe that no good ever comes from the goings-on at Manhurst. First Mariah, and now this?”
“Mariah? Do you mean the spirit from the séance?”
He nodded grimly. “She has haunted these lands for decades. Whispers of her fate have been told as bedtime stories.”
“What happened to her?”
He shrugged, his tone growing icy. “A well-born woman who met a sorry end. It is not a story fit for repeating, that’s for certain.”
“If children are fit to hear the tale, then why not me?”
He reached out, laying a hand over mine. “Perhaps you should ask my uncle. He knows the story far more intimately than I.”
A coldness lodged itself in my throat at the thought that Mr. Owen had known this Mariah. He’d also known Lucy—an inconvenient coincidence to say the least. I snatched my hand back and folded my arms beneath my chest.
“The point is, Miss Vaughn… women have a nasty habit of coming to bad ends here at Manhurst. First Mariah, now Lucy. It is only a matter of time before another dies.”
“Why would you say that?”
He gestured to the ruins behind. “Manhurst has been the center of great misfortunes and sadness. Perhaps it’s fitting for Lucy to die here as well. The last of the Campbell line extinguished. Perhaps with her death it’ll be the end of it.”
“She is the last of her family?”
He nodded, running a finger beneath his collar. “Aye. The last living heir. It was part of the details of the sale. Sharpe was to allow her to live here the remainder of her days.”
I wet my lips, disliking the picture that Andrew was painting. “Rather convenient for him that she died only a handful of years after he took over the estate.”
Andrew’s expression shuttered. “Indeed.”
“Do you think he might have had a hand in what happened last night?” I fiddled with the identification disc I’d taken from the dead medium’s body, which I had in my pocket. I hadn’t felt safe leaving it in my room. Truth be told I wasn’t quite sure what to make of Lucy having it in her possession to begin with. Perhaps Captain Lennox had a brother, and it was on the tip of my tongue to ask about his own family but something in his expression gave me pause. “You lied last night to Mr. Sharpe when you said it was suicide. You know as well as I that someone killed her.”
He licked his teeth, warm brown eyes not meeting mine. “It had to be done.”
“Why?”
“I fear for my uncle. Owen is a complicated man, but a good one. And it would do no one any good to findhisrevolver in the field the night a woman is found dead.”
“You can’t possibly think Mr. Owen was involved in anything. He was asleep when I left my room.”
“That does bring up a rather perplexing question, Miss Vaughn. Whydidyou leave your room last night? That part does not quite add up.”
“I… I’d gone for a walk. To clear my head.”
He looked somewhat relieved by that answer, as if he’d expected me to tell him something closer to the actual reason I was on the bridge that night.
I laid a protective hand down on the box bearing Mr. Owen’s revolver. “My jacket… it was there too… Did you happen to find it?”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t, Miss Vaughn. When I went to fetch the body all I found was the revolver. I pocketed it before any of the servants saw.”
Behind me, a few other guests had roused from their slumber and come out to enjoy an early morning repast. In the distance I spotted Mr. Sharpe among them, making his way from table totable, presumably reassuring the rest of the guests that they were not about to be murdered in their beds. I craned my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the man in the light of day, but he remained at a cautious distance from me.
“Why did you come to the séance?” I asked quietly.
