extremely coincidental, to say the least.”
Louisa tapped her pen lightly against the blotter. “One may have inspired the other. A woman
overwhelmed by melancholia who happened to read of another woman’s suicide might decide to take the
same path.”
Emma frowned. “I admit that I did not know her well, but I must tell you that I was quite shocked to
hear of Victoria’s death last year. At the time I remember thinking that she did not seem at all the sort to
take her own life.”
“That was my impression of her, too,” Anthony said. “I am even more convinced that Fiona would never
have done such a thing.”
The door opened again. Mrs. Galt set the tea tray on the table in front of Emma.
“I’ll pour, Mrs. Galt,” Emma said. “Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
No one spoke until Mrs. Galt was gone and the door was once again closed.
Louisa looked at Anthony. “You were saying that the coincidence of the two suicides caught your
attention.”
He lounged deeper into his chair and regarded her over steepled fingers. “There were actually three
suicides that same month. The third was Joanna Barclay, the woman who killed Lord Gavin. You may
recall the name. The murder created a great sensation in the press.”
Louisa froze. Icy tendrils of fear uncoiled inside her. She was very careful not to look at Emma.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“Yes,” she managed. “I believe I did hear something about that suicide.”
It was all she could do to keep breathing normally. The old terror began to creep out of the deep
shadows, where it was always lurking. He could not possibly know who she was. As far as the world
was concerned Joanna Barclay was dead. Society had long since forgotten the sensation Lord Gavin’s
death had created.
But Lord Gavin had relatives. He had been married. There was a widow. Lady Gavin did not currently
move in Society, of course, because she was still in mourning. Nevertheless, she was out there,
somewhere. Perhaps Anthony was acquainted with her. Perhaps he had concluded there was some
connection to the deaths of Fiona and Victoria. Perhaps he would feel it necessary to investigate the
suicide of Joanna Barclay…
“Mrs. Bryce?”
She jumped at the sound of Anthony’s voice. He was watching her with an unsettling, enigmatic
expression.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I was just thinking about what you said, sir.”
Emma gave her a worried look. “Do you feel faint, dear?”
“No, not at all.” Louisa forced her chaotic fears back into the shadows. Get hold of yourself. You’re
allowing your imagination to run wild. You must deal with this situation one step at a time.
“Please continue with your explanation, sir,” she said coolly. “What of the third suicide?”
He continued to regard her in silence for a few heartbeats. She did not like the calculating expression in
his eyes. Eventually he inclined his head slightly, as though accepting her explanations.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“I made some inquiries into Miss Barclay’s suicide,” he said, “but I was forced to conclude that there
was no connection to the deaths of Fiona or Victoria Hastings. Miss Barclay was a bookseller. She had
nothing to do with the Polite World, and there was no indication that Hastings knew her in any capacity.
She specialized in rare and expensive volumes. Her clientele consisted primarily of collectors. Hastings is
not interested in books.”
He had gone so far as to make inquiries. Cold perspiration dampened Louisa’s chemise. In an effort to
settle her nerves, she removed her spectacles and began to polish the lenses with a handkerchief.
“Hmm,” she said, trying to appear thoughtful again.
“As I recall,” Emma said, composed, as always, in a crisis, “the sensation press made it plain that there
was no mystery
Louisa tapped her pen lightly against the blotter. “One may have inspired the other. A woman
overwhelmed by melancholia who happened to read of another woman’s suicide might decide to take the
same path.”
Emma frowned. “I admit that I did not know her well, but I must tell you that I was quite shocked to
hear of Victoria’s death last year. At the time I remember thinking that she did not seem at all the sort to
take her own life.”
“That was my impression of her, too,” Anthony said. “I am even more convinced that Fiona would never
have done such a thing.”
The door opened again. Mrs. Galt set the tea tray on the table in front of Emma.
“I’ll pour, Mrs. Galt,” Emma said. “Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
No one spoke until Mrs. Galt was gone and the door was once again closed.
Louisa looked at Anthony. “You were saying that the coincidence of the two suicides caught your
attention.”
He lounged deeper into his chair and regarded her over steepled fingers. “There were actually three
suicides that same month. The third was Joanna Barclay, the woman who killed Lord Gavin. You may
recall the name. The murder created a great sensation in the press.”
Louisa froze. Icy tendrils of fear uncoiled inside her. She was very careful not to look at Emma.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“Yes,” she managed. “I believe I did hear something about that suicide.”
It was all she could do to keep breathing normally. The old terror began to creep out of the deep
shadows, where it was always lurking. He could not possibly know who she was. As far as the world
was concerned Joanna Barclay was dead. Society had long since forgotten the sensation Lord Gavin’s
death had created.
But Lord Gavin had relatives. He had been married. There was a widow. Lady Gavin did not currently
move in Society, of course, because she was still in mourning. Nevertheless, she was out there,
somewhere. Perhaps Anthony was acquainted with her. Perhaps he had concluded there was some
connection to the deaths of Fiona and Victoria. Perhaps he would feel it necessary to investigate the
suicide of Joanna Barclay…
“Mrs. Bryce?”
She jumped at the sound of Anthony’s voice. He was watching her with an unsettling, enigmatic
expression.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I was just thinking about what you said, sir.”
Emma gave her a worried look. “Do you feel faint, dear?”
“No, not at all.” Louisa forced her chaotic fears back into the shadows. Get hold of yourself. You’re
allowing your imagination to run wild. You must deal with this situation one step at a time.
“Please continue with your explanation, sir,” she said coolly. “What of the third suicide?”
He continued to regard her in silence for a few heartbeats. She did not like the calculating expression in
his eyes. Eventually he inclined his head slightly, as though accepting her explanations.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“I made some inquiries into Miss Barclay’s suicide,” he said, “but I was forced to conclude that there
was no connection to the deaths of Fiona or Victoria Hastings. Miss Barclay was a bookseller. She had
nothing to do with the Polite World, and there was no indication that Hastings knew her in any capacity.
She specialized in rare and expensive volumes. Her clientele consisted primarily of collectors. Hastings is
not interested in books.”
He had gone so far as to make inquiries. Cold perspiration dampened Louisa’s chemise. In an effort to
settle her nerves, she removed her spectacles and began to polish the lenses with a handkerchief.
“Hmm,” she said, trying to appear thoughtful again.
“As I recall,” Emma said, composed, as always, in a crisis, “the sensation press made it plain that there
was no mystery
Similar Books
