had no other choice.”
They ignored her and continued up and into Miss Downing’s room. There, Nicola skidded to a stop and Meg bumped into her. For a frozen second she simply stared at the sight greeting her. Emily Downing, still dressed in her outdoors clothes, hung from a rope tied to the roof beam, below her, a tipped over stool. Miss McIntyre was crying, heroically trying to support Emily’s weight away from the rope around her neck.
Nicola blinked and then the room erupted into chaos. She rushed forward to help Miss McIntyre lift Emily up and loosen the rope’s strangle hold. “Meg, get a knife quickly. Hurry!” Straining, she glanced at Miss Nugent. “Run for the doctor!”
“I canna hold her any longer, Miss Douglas,” Miss McIntyre sobbed, her accent thick in her distress.
“Wait.” Nicola yanked up her skirts and climbed onto the bed. With strength she didn’t know she owned, she heaved Emily higher. “Don’t let go, Miss McIntyre, I beg you!”
Meg returned with two sharp knives. Behind her, came the cook and the new maid, who began screaming hysterically. Meg climbed up beside Nicola, as did the cook and together they frantically sawed at the rope until they cried out because their muscles burned in their arms.
Miss McIntyre’s sobbing became wails as her strength gave out. Finally, the remaining strands of thick hemp snapped and Nicola lost her grip. Emily and Miss McIntyre fell hard onto the floor.
Nicola scurried to Emily’s side, but moaned deep in her throat when she realised the unnatural position of Emily’s head. Her neck was clearly broken. Gently, hesitantly, she lifted Emily’s head and straightened her neck. She looked down at the parted coat and carefully placed her shaking hand over the swollen stomach. Grief welled at the tragic loss.
“Nicola.” Meg touched her arm. “The police are here.”
Frowning, she rose to her feet. “The police?”
“Yes, two constables. Miss Burstall went for them.” Meg’s tone matched the anger on her face. “She was lucky enough to find two of them walking in the next street.”
Nicola turned to the door only to find Miss Burstall leading in the two constables. Revulsion at the triumph on the other woman’s face turned Nicola’s stomach. She greeted the men and then asked for everyone to leave, except Meg. With Meg’s support she managed to answer the constable’s questions and give a dignified account of Emily’s life. However, when Doctor Armitage arrived, she gladly left the men to their work and headed downstairs to wait in the sitting room.
“Where’s that cold-hearted witch, Burstall?” Meg demanded of the others the minute she entered the room.
“Don’t, Meg. Not now.” Nicola took Meg’s hand to calm her. “I’ll speak with Miss Burstall later.”
“She has to go, Nicola.”
“She will, believe me. That woman will be gone from this house before nightfall.” On shaky legs, Nicola crossed the room and sat by the unlit fireplace. Miss McIntyre reclined opposite on the sofa, looking exhausted her red freckles standing out on her pale face, while Miss Nugent passed around cups of tea with hands that shook so badly each cup was only half full. Of Miss Golding there was no sign and Nicola hoped she’d gone to bed. Her shattered nervous disposition would be too much for Nicola to bear at that moment.
The next few hours brought utter sadness to the house as the undertaker came and took Emily’s body away. The constables left, as did Doctor Armitage while Nicola made the funeral arrangements. Mr Belfroy arrived, his face shadowed with haunting memories of his own recent loss. He sat silently near Nicola, content to let her and Meg deal with the unfortunate business.
When the uneaten evening meal had been cleared away, Nicola left the dining room, talking to Meg. The front door opened and Miss Burstall entered the house. She hesitated on seeing Nicola and Meg.
“Miss Burstall.” Nicola raised her eyebrows, giving the other woman one of her most superior glares. “You will pack your belongings and leave this house within the hour.”
Miss Burstall’s top lip curled with contempt. “Gladly, Miss Douglas. The idea of staying another moment within these walls upsets me greatly.” She brushed passed them and had taken three stairs when Meg stepped forward.
“May your conscience trouble you for the rest of your life, Burstall.”
Faltering ever so slightly, Miss Burstall’s hand tightened on the banister and she looked down at them with a small smile. “My conscience is quite clear, Meg Robinson. Is yours? You may have delighted in sharing a house