Once Again a Bride - By Jane Ashford Page 0,101

keep things going. Everyone has simply expected it. My parents, Simon, Edward. No one else lifts a finger. When I think how Edward complained about saying a few words to Henry when he saw him at the club.”

“It’s all about money,” Charlotte said. She felt like the stupid girl Lady Isabella had called her. Her mind just wouldn’t work.

“Naturally I thought Henry would leave his fortune to Edward. And well he knew it! I had no idea he’d married. I cannot keep track of everything!” She blew out an exasperated breath. “Henry was always a sneak. And malicious? That ridiculous will. I should have remembered how devious he’d always been and provided a will myself. That was a mistake. I admit it.”

A horrible realization was rising in Charlotte. “Did you kill Henry?” she whispered.

Lady Isabella tittered. “He was so shocked when I walked up to him in men’s clothing. I don’t suppose he even noticed that Mama had made me wear them. He never noticed anything but himself. It was simple to hit him the first time.”

“My lady,” admonished Martha.

Her mistress ignored her. “Edward had told me that it is very dangerous for boxers to be hit just here.” She put a hand to her temple.

“You shouldn’t say any more, ma’am,” Martha advised.

But Lady Isabella didn’t seem to hear. “I had to strike him several times to make sure he was dead, of course. But I’d found a spot that was dark and hidden. Then, it was all for nothing. A museum—the idiot!” She turned to glare at Charlotte. “And now, on top of everything, you!”

“It’s time for her dose, ma’am.” Martha leaned forward and caught Lady Isabella’s eye. She held it for a long moment.

“Is it? Oh, very well.”

Charlotte barely struggled this time. She was too shocked.

Another inn went by in a blur. When Charlotte came to consciousness in the post chaise for the third time, she felt beyond horrible. Her muscles ached; her head pounded; her stomach twisted; her throat and wrists were rasped raw. She didn’t want to open her eyes and reveal that she was awake, but she was desperate. “Is there any water?” She could barely croak.

“We have a flask of tea,” Lady Isabella replied, as brightly as if they were on the way to a picnic. “Give her some, Martha.”

She thirstily drank two cups held for her by Martha, then slowly ate some bread and cheese she was offered. As the day passed, even with the rocking of the carriage, she began to feel slightly better. If only they would stop giving her the drug, she might be able to think what to do. From something Lady Isabella said to Martha, she gathered the journey would end later that day. Suddenly, she remembered something. “We’re going to Derbyshire?”

Lady Isabella raised her eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You live near your parents’ old house.” Now Sir Alexander’s, and he was in Derbyshire! If she could get away and find him… Noticing Martha’s eyes on her, Charlotte kept her face blank.

“Oh, yes,” Lady Isabella replied. “All my life, I was the one who was there, called on for any emergency, complained to… you cannot conceive the continual complaints. And still my father left me next to nothing! What did my brothers ever do for him? James simply… disappeared as soon as he was able. And Henry! He cared nothing for my parents, or indeed for anyone but himself.”

There, Charlotte had to agree. “A liar and a thief,” she murmured.

Lady Isabella frowned at her. “What?”

She hadn’t meant to speak aloud. She was so very disoriented and tired. But what did it matter? “Henry had a whole hoard of things hidden away. We just found them a few days ago.”

“What sort of things?” was the sharp reply.

“A snuffbox, earrings, my father’s…”

“Earrings?” Lady Isabella loomed over her. “A large teardrop pearl? An emerald with a diamond setting? Ruby clusters?”

“I’m not sure about all those. I saw a pearl.”

“Damn Henry!” Lady Isabella clenched her fists, and for a moment Charlotte feared she’d hit her. “Those were my mother’s jewels. They… came to me.”

Her tone made Charlotte suspect that they had not come in the ordinary course of legacy.

“It’s been years since I lost those earrings. Well, I didn’t lose them, did I? Now we see.” She gave Martha a burning look. “How did Henry…? Christmas! He must have taken them when he was up for the holidays, before Papa died. If only I’d known they were there the night I went in, I could

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