something was badly amiss, she pulled herself painfully from the chair as Amy flung herself into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
‘It’s my locket, Gran,’ she choked out. ‘Mr and Mrs Forrester say it wasn’t my mother’s.’
Molly bristled. ‘Oh yes it was, as God’s me witness,’ she told them boldly.
Mr Forrester drew himself up to his full height and stared at her disdainfully. ‘I am afraid that is quite impossible, Mrs Ernshaw. You see, that locket belonged to my daughter. We had it commissioned and made for her in London for her eighteenth birthday. The picture of the young woman inside the locket is actually our daughter, Jessica. She was a very talented artist and she painted the portrait inside herself.’
It was Molly’s turn to pale now. She had never been one for fainting, but as she stared into the master’s cold eyes the room began to swim around her and an icy hand closed around her heart.
Back at The Folly, Adam searched the room for his parents and when he couldn’t find them he made his way into the hallway and beckoned the butler to his side.
‘Have you seen the master and mistress?’ he asked.
The man nodded solemnly. ‘Yes, Master Adam, sir. The master ordered the carriage to be brought around to the front some half an hour since, and he and the mistress went off with Miss Ernshaw.’
‘But where did they go?’ Adam was deeply puzzled. His parents’ manners were impeccable, and he could think of nothing that would make them leave a houseful of guests unattended for no good reason.
‘I am afraid I have no idea, sir. The master did not say.’ Bowing stiffly, the butler quietly walked away to resume his duties.
Adam stroked his chin thoughtfully. Something was amiss. His mind sought for some plausible explanation to the puzzle but try as he might, he could find none. Even if Amy had been taken ill, it was highly unlikely that both of his parents would have escorted her home on tonight of all nights. But then he had seen Amy earlier in the evening and she had looked radiant and the very picture of good health.
As he stood there pondering, his eyes lit on his wife, who was standing at the far end of the hallway with a sly little smile dancing about her lips. She was obviously very much the worse for drink and was looking decidedly dishevelled.
‘Do you know where my mother and father have gone?’ he asked her coldly.
She grinned and leaned towards him, causing some of her whisky to splash over the rim of her crystal glass, down the front of her dress and on to the fine Persian carpet beneath them.
‘Oh yesh, I know where they’ve gone all right.’ Her voice was full of spite and her words slurred. Not wishing to make a spectacle of themselves in front of their guests, Adam took her arm and none too gently led her into the library, closing the door firmly behind them.
‘Well?’ he demanded impatiently. ‘You say that you know where my parents and Amy have gone, so perhaps you would care to enlighten me.’
Enjoying his obvious concern she took another long slow swig of her drink before replying, ‘Gladly.’ She leaned towards him, sneering maliciously, ‘It appears that their little country bumpkin isn’t quite the angel they thought. She came to the party this evening wearing your precious sister’s locket. You must remember the one? They had it made for her especially for her eighteenth birthday.’
He stepped away from her and gripped the edge of the desk as her whisky-smelling breath fanned his face. But the look of distress only seemed to enrage her more and now she spat, ‘So come on then. How do you think the likes of her would have acquired that, eh? A common little ribbon-weaver’s trollop? I think the answer is as clear as day, don’t you? She must have stolen it! And now she will be getting her comeuppance – and not before time, that’s what I say.’
As his chin sank to his chest she smiled with satisfaction. But then slowly he raised his head, and the look he gave her seemed to have a sobering effect on her, for never in her life had she seen such hatred, raw and burning.
‘You’d like it if she was a thief, wouldn’t you?’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘For you seem to have developed the same jealousy for Amy that you did for Jessica – though neither of them