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on top of him and only suffered a broken leg."

"And terminal embarrassment, I imagine."

"Must have. I have the names of the women, the Harper women, who died here listed for you. I have some records on female servants who died here, but none fit the parameters. I got some information from the Chicago lawyer I told you about."

He began to dig for another file. "The descendant of the housekeeper during Reginald Harper's time. She actually discovered she had three ancestors who worked here - the housekeeper, the housekeeper's uncle who was a groundsman, and a young cousin who served as a kitchen maid. From this, I've been able to get you a detailed history of that family as well. While none of it applies, I thought you'd like to have it."

"Yes, I would."

"The lawyer's still looking for data when she has time, she's entrenched now. We could get lucky."

"You've done considerable work."

"You'll be able to look at the charts and locate your great-great-uncle's second cousin on his mother's side, and get a good sense of his life. But that doesn't help you."

"You're wrong." She studied the mountain of files, and the board, crowded with papers and photos and handwritten charts behind Mitch. "It does help me. It's something I should have seen to a long time ago. I should have known about the unfortunate and adulterous Beau, and the saloon-owning Lucybelle, and all the others you've brought to life for me."

She rose to go to the board and study the faces, the names. Some were as familiar as her own, and others had been virtual strangers to her.

"My father, I see now, was more interested in the present than the past. And my grandfather died while I was so young, I don't remember having him tell me family stories. Most of what I got was from my grandmother, who wasn't a Harper by birth, or from older cousins. I'd go through the old papers now and again, always meaning to make time to do more, read more. But I didn't."

She stepped back from the board. "Family history, everyone who came before matters, and until recently I haven't given them enough respect."

"I agree with the first part, but not the second. This house shows the great respect you have for your family. Essentially, what I'm telling you is I can't find her for you. I believe, from what I've observed, what I feel, Amelia is your ancestor. But she's not your family. I won't find her name in family documents. And I don't believe she was a servant here."

"You don't."

"Consider the time, the era, the societal mores. As a servant, it's certainly possible that she was impregnated by a member of the family, but it's doubtful she would have been permitted to remain on staff, to remain in the house during her pregnancy. She would've been sent away, given monetary compensation - maybe. But it doesn't hold for me."

After one last glance at the board, she walked back to her chair and sat. "Why not?"

"Reginald was head of the house. All the information I have on him indicates he was excessively proud, very aware of what we could say was his lofty standing in this area. Politics, business, society. To be frank, Roz, I don't see him banging the parlor maid. He'd have been more selective. Certainly, said banging could have been done by a relative, an uncle, a brother-in-law, a cousin. But my gut tells me the connection with Amelia's tighter than that."

"Which leaves?"

"A lover. A woman not his wife, but who suited his needs. A mistress."

She was silent for a long moment. "You know what I find interesting, Mitchell? That we've come, from different directions, to the same point. You've gone through so many reams of documents that it gives me a headache just to think of them. Phone calls, computer searches, courthouse searches. Graphs and charts and Christ only knows. And by doing all that you've not only given me a picture of my family I've never looked at, people whose names I didn't know, but who are, in a very real sense, responsible for my life. But you've eliminated dozens of possibilities, dozens of perhapses as to who this poor woman was, so that we can whittle it down to the right answer. Do you think, when we do, she'll have peace?"

"I don't know the answer to that. Why are you so sad? It rips me to see you so sad."

"I'm not entirely sure. This is what