Rafe clenched his hands into fists as fury tightened every one of his muscles. “So you’ll let a murderer go unpunished. You were party to the deaths of our parents and the servants who also died in that fire. And you allowed my sister and me to be forever changed.” Damaged.
“You’re a monster,” Selina whispered.
Pauline had the gall to raise her chin and give them a clear-eyed stare. “I could have lied to you, but I told you the truth. I will go to my grave with a clearer conscience at least. You can either look backward or you can look to your future. It looks rather wonderful, doesn’t it?”
Rafe snorted. “That was precisely the fucking nonsense your brother said as he used us for his own gain and then sold us to a criminal.” He turned his head to Selina. “We should have brought your husband.”
“Yes. In fact, I’ll see if he can come tomorrow. I’m confident there is ample reason for him to arrest her.”
“What?” Pauline started coughing once more, more violently than she had yet. Her face turned red.
“My husband is a Bow Street Runner,” Selina said with clear satisfaction. “You’ve admitted your crime to us. Unless you’d care to change your mind about speaking with a clerk who will take your testimony?”
“Water, please,” Pauline rasped. When neither Rafe nor Selina moved, she nodded vigorously. “I’ll talk to the clerk.”
Selina went to pour more water and brought her the glass. She even helped the invalid drink. Pauline continued to cough, and her sister returned.
“Oh, Polly, you’ve worn yourself out.” She looked toward Rafe and Selina. “I think you must let her rest now. It’s time for her medicine.”
Rafe pinned Pauline with a dark stare. “The clerk will be here tomorrow. Don’t die before then.”
Mrs. Gill gasped and drew her hand to her chest as her eyes widened. “What a terrible thing to say.”
“Your sister has done far worse,” Selina bit out in a clipped tone. She hesitated before looking toward Pauline once more. The anger seemed to drain from her as he shoulders sagged and her features turned sad. “You used to sing Lavender Blue to me. All I remember is my mother’s coral necklace and that song.” Her voice was soft and haunting. It broke what remained of Rafe’s heart.
Tears filled Pauline’s eyes again. “I loved you. I thought you and your mother would be fine. Your uncle promised me that. I am so sorry for my part in what happened.”
Mrs. Gill frowned at her sister. “Polly, what are you talking about?”
Pauline weakly lifted her hand in a feeble wave. “Later. I need to sleep.” She seemed to sink deeper into the bedclothes. Her eyes closed.
Rafe gritted his teeth and lightly touched his sister’s back to guide her to the door. Selina didn’t move, however. “Did that necklace burn in the fire?” she asked.
It took a moment for Pauline to respond, and she didn’t open her eyes. “No. You had it. She came to the nursery to make sure you got out of the house. You wanted her, but she needed to go find your father. You reached for her and grabbed the necklace. It came off, and you held on to it as we left the house.”
Rafe’s heart broke again as he watched the despair carve deep lines into his sister’s face. Her back bowed with the weight of her grief.
“I made sure it was with you when Edgar took you.”
Was it possible, then, that the necklace Beatrix had given to Selina had belonged to their mother?
“When the clerk comes tomorrow to take your testimony, he’s going to bring a necklace. You will tell him if it’s the same one. I am not certain it is, but you will know.”
Pauline didn’t respond.
“I’m sorry, but you must go,” Mrs. Gill pleaded.
“You’ll keep me apprised of her condition,” Rafe said. “Send word to me at Upper Brook Street in London. Tomorrow, a clerk will come to take her testimony about the matter we discussed today. You must admit him, do you understand?”
Mrs. Gill nodded.
Rafe inclined his head, then guided Selina from the room. They walked in silence from the inn and waited to speak until they were seated in the coach on their way back to London.
Selina stared out the window as they drove north through Redfield. “She may die before the clerk arrives.”
“She probably will, just to spite us.”
“Our uncle is a murderer,” she said quietly, her gaze fixed outside the coach.
“Yes. I want to kill him, Lina.”
She turned her head toward him then, her blue eyes dark and piercing in their intensity. “No. You are not a murderer.”
“You know that’s not true.” He’d told her what he’d done to the man who’d killed his pregnant wife, the man who’d brutally ripped away the best part of Rafe. “When it comes to those I love, I will do anything.” His throat burned, threatening to close with emotion. “I worked so hard to protect you, to keep you safe. None of it mattered. I failed. What you said in there—”
She held up her hand. “I was upset. Besides Beatrix, the only other person who knows what happened to me when I was a governess is Harry. And don’t ask me who my employer was, because it doesn’t matter. That was twelve years ago. I left, and I’ve never looked back.”
Rafe understood wanting to bury the horrors of the past. “I’m so bloody sorry. I never should have left you at that school.”
“You did the best you could. Regardless of what happened to me, it was probably better than if I’d stayed in London. You know that to be true.”
He did, but learning what had happened after she left the school, when she was supposed to have been embarking on a bright future that he’d made possible, absolutely crushed him. He did his best to hide that fact.
“Back to Mallory,” Selina said with a shake of her head and taking a deep breath. “You can’t kill him. I would much prefer to see his crimes made public and for him to hang. Harry will help us. There is no one better.”
While Rafe understood her need for a public accounting for their uncle’s crimes, he didn’t share it. He only cared that the man paid with his life. It would be easy enough for Rafe to ask someone from his past to take care of the deed. The counterfeit Earl of Stone could die at the hands of a footpad.
Except Rafe knew firsthand that the man’s death would do nothing to ease the pain. He’d ended Samuel Partridge, but it hadn’t brought Eliza back, nor had it assuaged the piercing ache of losing her. Only time had made that less difficult to bear.
So Rafe would gladly witness his uncle’s public shame and degradation when his crimes were exposed. Then he would watch the vile man’s body dangle from a rope.
“We need more evidence,” Rafe said flatly. “Even if Pauline survives to tell her tale to the clerk, it will be her testimony—that of a dead woman—against that of our uncle, who has been a respected member of Society his entire life.” Rafe wanted to hit something.
Her gaze darkened. “Then we’ll get more evidence. Perhaps the clerk Harry sent to Stonehaven will learn something.”
“It would be best if we could send word before he returns to London, alerting him of what we’ve learned. However, that will be difficult given Stonehaven’s distance.” It was a three-day journey by coach in the most favorable of weather.