Page 123 of The Hunter
“We were introduced at the theater,Othello.You were Miss Millicent LeCour’s—companion. Both of you were so kind.” Lady Benchley offered a shaky smile.
“You’ve been injured, Lady Benchley, and you’re obviously distressed. Is there aught we can do to help you?” Farah cajoled, taking the woman’s hand in her own.
Next to the slim, angelic Lady Northwalk, Philomena St. Vincent appeared more plump and sallow than she had during their previous meetings. The apricot dress and hat didn’t help, and neither did the healing wounds. Though, as Christopher studied her, he again noted charming dimples next to her full mouth, and her arresting jade eyes, despite the swelling and redness.
“Call me Mena, please, and I’ve been seen to, I’m not here about that.” Her voice was sweet and young, though the shadows in her countenance were anything but.
Farah’s brow wrinkled. “Yes, but—”
“Please,” Mena pleaded. “I—I don’t have much time. My absence has likely already been noted as I’ve previously been this afternoon to Scotland Yard.” Her chin wobbled, but she visibly composed herself.
“Why is that?” Dorian asked evenly.
“And what does it have to do with Millicent LeCour?” Argent demanded.
Farah cast him a sharp look, but Mena didn’t even flinch. The viscountess was no shrinking violet, but a woman used to a harsh tone.
“As you all might know from the papers, my brother-in-law, Lord Thurston, was horrifically murdered,” Mena began.
No one said a word, nor did they look at each other. What Mena St. Vincent knew of the circumstances of Lord Thurston’s death was still undetermined.
“I am often the companion to Lady Katherine, his wife, as she is my husband’s sister. She’s not a kind woman, you see, but we have had a sort of bond with which we can commiserate.” Placing a trembling hand over her mouth, Mena swallowed and took a few gulps of air before continuing.
Christopher leaned forward, curling his hands into fists so as not to shake the point from the distraught woman.
“We’ve both been married for some years now and have been so far unable to produce an heir for our husbands. You see, I’ve never been able to… conceive. And Katherine, she’s lost every child she’s conceived either in the womb or moments after birth.” Mena blinked up at Farah. “I think it’s driven her quite mad.”
“Why do you say that?” Christopher prodded.
“After Lord Thurston passed, she left for one of their country estates in Essex. I didn’t hear a word from her for a month, which worried me because I didn’t think that the death of her husband would leave her very troubled. It was no secret that theirs was not a happy match. So, I followed her to Essex to check on her, and there, at Fenwick Hall, I uncovered her secret.”
Mena now had both of Farah’s hands clenched in her own. “Upon my arrival, I found her out of mourning garb raising five orphan boys. I was surprised at first, of course, but I initially thought that maybe her husband’s death had softened her, and that she was trying to do some good in this world. The longer I remained there, it became apparent that the boys were traumatized, that they were being held against their will.”
“Christ, Blackwell, do you know what this means?” Christopher turned to Dorian who was already shaking his head in amazement.
“Those boys Morley was looking for, Thurston took them and his wifeknewabout it.” Blackwell brought a thoughtful hand to his chin.
Mena nodded, her eyes filling again. “I’m afraid it’smuchworse than you think.”
Christopher watched her alertly, puzzle pieces clicking into place. “What do you mean?”
“She was like I’d neverseenher before. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes, if she hadn’t confessed everything to me. As if she were proud. As if she’d done nothing wrong.” Tears had begun to roll down her cheeks and drip from her chin, but Mena couldn’t seem to let go of Farah’s hands long enough to reach for the handkerchief in her lap. “She made those poor boys compete with each other. She kept telling them she’d pick one of them to be the heir to the Thurston title and fortune, and that she’d get rid of the rest.”
A mute sense of horror filled the room. Even Christopher felt it.
“Until about five years ago, Lord Thurston was a notorious reprobate. These children, these boys, they were all his… illegitimate sons by his numerous mistresses.” Mena sent all of them a searching look. “Don’t you see, Lord and Lady Northwalk, Mr. Argent, shekilledtheir mothers. Not with her own hands, but she hired it done andtookthose poor children into her depraved captivity.”
Christopher remembered back to the day he’d lifted the gate key from Lady Thurston’s pocket. Fenwick’s guts had already been spilled by the time he’d arrived. Had Katherine Fenwick already known what Dorshaw was doing to her husband when she strolled so blithely down the sunny streets of St. James’s?
“Did Lady Thurston order the murder of her husband, as well?” he asked bluntly.
Mena paused, her gaze dropping to her lap. “A cruel and unfaithful husband sometimes seems an impossible thing to bear, Mr. Argent,” she said quietly, indicating what he’d already suspected. That her wounds were inflicted by her own husband, Gordon St. Vincent. “If Lord Thurston was her only victim, I might not have come here—” Her voice broke. “But those children. They were so frightened. I pretended to be in agreement with her and came straight back to London a week past. I would have gone to the police sooner but I was—detained by my husband.” She touched the side of her healing nose gingerly.
“So you’ve told Chief Inspector Morley this, Lady Benchley?” Dorian asked carefully.
She nodded, more tears sliding from her chin into her lap. “The St. Vincents… they’re going to find out that it was I who told. There will be—consequences. But I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to those boys. Not if I could stop it.”
“You’re so very brave, Mena.” Farah rubbed her back consolingly. “That was so well done of you. And we will of course help you in any way we can.”
