A Stroke of Malice (Lady Darby Mystery #8) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,131

he gazed at her for only a moment, and nodded his head but once in acknowledgment, I could tell he was far from indifferent to the sight of her.

She turned her head to the side, as if to compose herself, and then swiveled to face me again. “I found Lady Helmswick.”

I straightened. “You did? Where?”

“She’s in the chapel.”

Why this should surprise me given the circumstances, I didn’t know, but I was momentarily robbed of speech. “Show me the way,” I finally managed to request.

Bree led me through the side door into the servants’ domain, and through a series of turns to a small staircase which fed almost directly into the chapel. I had yet to enter this sanctuary, so I had not been awed by the vaulted ceiling which rose three stories to the full height of the castle. Muted, almost hallowed light filtered down from the windows set high in the rafters of the northern wall, tempered by the lattice of circular muntins separating the panes of glass. With its white walls and black marble floor, the chamber seemed stark and unforgiving. Even the stone coffins that lined the floor along one wall, the effigies of their inhabitants resting atop them with their hands clasped in prayer, seemed more of a mortal accusation than a divine comfort. I realized then that Lady Helmswick had not gone there to seek refuge, but rebuke.

I spied her through the archway leading into the inner chapel, on her knees on the cold floor in the large open area before the spare altar. I lifted my hand, urging Bree to allow me to go to her alone. A heavy stillness filled the air, the sound of my footsteps swallowed by the enormous tapestries of scenes from the Bible that covered the lower walls. The scent of must, wax, and recently extinguished candles tickled my nostrils.

When I reached her side, I could hear that she was quietly sobbing, her shoulders heaving with each breath. I was helpless not to feel compassion for her. So although it was not the most comfortable position for a woman heavy with child to be in, I knelt down on the cool marble beside her and gently touched her shoulder. She glanced up at me with tear-stained cheeks and I pulled her into my embrace. Too weak to resist, she began to weep into the sable fabric of her own cloak that I still wore.

I didn’t try to speak. I simply held her as she poured out her pain, and then I prayed. Prayed for safety for the men, that they might be fleet of foot. Prayed for peace for John, and for the Lord to stay his hand. Prayed for comfort for Eleanor, and wisdom for myself to know what to say.

When her sobs lessened, and her breaths came more evenly, she pulled back, sniffling as she searched the folds of her blush pink gown for the handkerchief she’d dropped. “I’m sorry,” she hiccupped, dabbing at her nose. “I shouldn’t have unraveled like that.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” I told her, still keeping a firm grip on her elbow. “Besides, I’m the one who intruded on your privacy, not the other way around.”

She offered me a weak smile. “Thank you. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t you?” I replied, not ungently.

Her lip began to wobble, but she inhaled a swift breath, forcing the sob back down. She pushed to her feet, while I still clung to her arm.

“Would you mind . . . ?” I began.

She gasped in realization. “Of course.”

I grunted as she helped me to my feet, guiding me toward a bench to the side of the chapel. “There.” I exhaled. “Much better.” My back and knees aching, I glanced about me. “This drafty place was meant for penance, wasn’t it?”

She gave a strangled laugh. “Yes, well, I suppose the Kerr family has had more than its fair share of sinners.” At this she shook her head, dabbing at the tears starting to overflow her eyes.

“I know about Helmswick’s first wife.”

Her breath hitched scornfully. “And that she died just a few short months ago?”

“Yes. I also know that Lord John killed his first wife’s brother, a Mr. Renton, when he tried to blackmail you. That his is the corpse we found in the catacombs.”

Her eyes squeezed shut as I continued.

“And that he destroyed the parish marriage record, thinking to protect you.”

Her hands clenched into fists in her lap, as she struggled to restrain all the hurt