Page 35 of Suzanna's Surrender
“I read the transcript Max put together from the interview with Mrs. Tobias, the maid. And I listened to the tape.”
“What do you think?”
“I think she’s got a good memory and that she was impressed by Bianca. From her viewpoint, the setup was that Bianca was unhappy in her marriage, devoted to her children and in love with my grandfather. She and Fergus were already on shaky ground when they had the blowout over the dog. We’ll figure that was the straw that broke it. She decided to leave him, but she didn’t go that night. Why?”
“Even if she’d finally made the decision,” Suzanna said slowly, “there would have been arrangements to make. She’d have had to consider the children.” This she understood all too well. “Where could she take them? How could she be certain she could provide for them? Even if the marriage was a disaster, she would have to plan carefully how to tell them she was taking them away from their father.”
“So when Fergus left for Boston after they fought, she started to work it out. We have to figure she went to my grandfather, because he ended up with the dog.”
“She loved him,” Suzanna murmured. “She would have gone to him first. And he loved her, so he would have wanted to go away with her and the children.”
“If we go with that, we take it to the next step. She went back to The Towers to pack, to get the kids together. But instead of meeting my grandfather and riding off into the sunset, she takes a jump out of the tower window. Why?”
“She was in turmoil.” With her eyes half closed, Suzanna stared into the sunlight. “She was about to take a step that would end her marriage, separate her children from their father. Break her vows. It’s so difficult, so frightening. Like dying. Maybe she thought she was a failure, and when her husband came home and she had to face him and herself, she couldn’t.”
Holt ran a hand over her hair. “Is that what it was like for you?”
Her shoulders stiffened. “We’re talking about Bianca. And I don’t see what her reasons for killing herself have to do with the emeralds.”
Holt took his hand away. “First we decide why she hid them, then we go for where.”
Slowly she relaxed again. “Fergus gave them to her when their first son was born. Not their first child. A girl didn’t rate.” She took another sip of her ginger ale and washed away some of her own bitterness. “She would have resented that, I think. To be rewarded—like a prize mare—for producing an heir. But they were hers because the child was hers.”
Because her eyes were heavy, she let them drift closed. “Bax gave me diamonds when Alex was born. I didn’t feel guilty about selling them to start the business. Because they were mine. She might have felt the same way. The emeralds would have bought a new life for her, for the children.”
“Why did she hide them?”
“To make certain he didn’t find them if he stopped her from leaving. So that she knew she’d have something of her own.”
“Did you hide your diamonds, Suzanna?”
“I put them in Jenny’s diaper bag. The last place Baxter would look.” With a half laugh, she plucked at the grass. “That sounds so melodramatic.”
But he wasn’t smiling or sneering, she noted. He was frowning out at the dianthiums where the bees hovered and hummed. “It sounds damn smart to me. She spent a lot of time in the tower, right?”
“We’ve looked there.”
“We’ll look again and take her bedroom apart.”
“Lilah will love that.” Suzanna closed her eyes again. The food and the shade were making her sleepy. “It’s her bedroom now. And we’ve looked there, too.”
“I haven’t.”
“No.” She decided it wouldn’t hurt to stretch out while they finished talking it through. The grass was blissfully cool and soft. “If we found her journal, we’d know the answers. Mandy went through every book in the library, just in case it got mixed in like the purloined letter.”
He began to stroke her hair again. “We’ll take another look.”
“Mandy wouldn’t have missed anything. She’s too organized.”
“I’d rather check over old ground than depend on a séance.”
She made a sound that was half laugh and half sigh. “Aunt Coco’ll talk you into it.” Her voice grew heavy with fatigue. “We need to plant the pinks first.”
“Okay.” He’d moved his hands down and was gently massaging her shoulders.
“It’ll trail right over the rocks and down the bank. It doesn’t give up,” she murmured, and was asleep.
“You’re telling me.”
