Page 64 of The Secret of the Three Fates
I didn’t believe his pretty words, but I no longer wished to dwell on what happened in New York. It was a long time ago, and I was no longer that shy girl who’d been maneuvered and played. Now I was agrown womanwho was being maneuvered and played. I eyed the decanter across the room.
Elijah must have sensed my turn of mood and he quickly went to it, pouring himself a snifter of brandy. “Care for some?”
“Please.”
He poured a second and brought it to me, the round glasses cupped gently in his nimble fingers. “I was relieved to hear you were not more grievously wounded at the lake.” He took a long drink of the amber liquid, leaning against a tall bookshelf. He was still a strikingly handsome man—long and lean, with an expression that gave away little. “I have always been afraid of just that thing happening. It’s why I do not allow hunting on Manhurst grounds.”
“You don’t allow hunting?” I could not disguise the surprise in my voice. “Why would the inspector be certain it was a hunting accident then?”
The amber liquid in his glass winked in the firelight. “I asked the very same thing, because if itwerea hunting accident, I would wish to have whoever did it arrested for trespass. While the bridge leads to Hawick lands, there is no way a bullet could travel ontomy estate at that direction. It is simply impossible and in that weather…?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “The inspector is probably disappointed that Mr. Owen confessed and he couldn’t watch me hang. Is that why you suddenly told me the truth about who you are? Guilt from my being shot on your property?”
He flushed slightly, giving me a sheepish look before handing the envelope in his fingers to me. “No. I’m afraid my hand was forced in the matter. I thought it best to confess before you saw the news yourself.”
I looked at what he’d handed me. A response from my solicitor, Hari, addressed to Ruan. The seal had been broken. “Ah.”
“Ah, indeed.” He cleared his throat, changing the subject. “Manhurst is getting quite the bloody reputation. First poor Lucy Campbell… now this.”
I lifted my glass to that and took a sip, letting the brandy do its work. “While on the subject, Miss Demidov mentioned there being another medium here before. A woman who disappeared shortly before the séance. Do you know anything of her?”
“You mean Abigail? No. Not much at all. Though I did take Miss Lucy to Edinburgh to seek assistance in finding the poor woman, but she disappeared without a trace.” He snapped his fingers to underscore the point. “You don’t think the two cases are connected?”
I weighed how much to share, but decided it did no harm to tell him what I knew. At least about the mediums. “I do. I think they were looking for something here.”
He made a low sound of understanding in his chest. “That’s an interesting ring.” He tilted his head toward Mariah’s ring, which I’d been rubbing absently.
“It is, isn’t it? It was my mother’s.” I was beginning to lie as smoothly as Mr. Owen, which was a damning thought considering all.
“I had forgotten about that. Christ, I am an utter ass, aren’t I?”
I smiled faintly at him, there was the Elijah I remembered. “Only a partial ass.”
Elijah’s eyes lingered on my finger. “Do you miss her—your mother? It was international news when it happened.”
“I do.” More and more with each passing day.
“Forgive me. I was only thinking, that if you missed her, perhaps you could put Miss Demidov to use. Help you find a bit of peace. I know I have no right to speak to you as a friend after all that’s come before.”
No. He didn’t, but I’d once counted him as one. “I suppose I will allow it.”
He stared at me, stunned. “You have changed—I remember you as such a shy girl, always with your freckled nose in a book, hiding in corners until Christopher dragged you into the light. And now—now you are utterly fearless. I think he would tremble at what he made.”
“It’s amazing what disgrace will do to a girl. You either die of the shame, or you learn to rise above it.” My words held far more venom than I intended—but it was the truth. I had been given a choice when my father sent me away from New York. I could mourn the loss of the future I’d imagined and blame myself for what Christopher stole—or I could create my own life. One that suitedme. I chose the latter and thus far it has not disappointed.
“Again, I apologize—”
“Enough with the apologies, Elijah. What are you dancing around?”
He studied his decanter intently, long enough that I thought that he might not answer at all. “It is real. That’s what I mean to say.”
“Pardon?”
“The séances. They’rereal. It seems strange to admit now, but as you recall my sister died in childbirth the summer we met. When I purchased Manhurst, I spoke with Lucy about her death—about how I missed her, how desperately I wanted to say goodbye but that she passed too quickly. Lucy asked me for a piece of her clothing, or a token to call her spirit close—all I had was a handkerchief my sister had embroidered for me. But Lucy was able to reach her from the grave. It gave me peace to speak to her one last time, to know she had found peace herself—I know I cannot change what happened in New York—but perhaps one of the mediums here could bring you that solace too.”
I stared at him in disbelief. Of all the conversations to be having… But a curious thought struck me. What if I could use a séance to draw out Lucy’s killer? If Mr. Owen was right, and that the killer was after the ring, then what if I used it as bait? An object to bring forth the dead—or in this instance—the living.
Elijah’s eyes lingered on the ring. “It couldn’t hurt.”
