Page 57 of Death at Fournier Downs
“I am protecting us, brother. Something you, as a degenerate, failed to do.”
Audrey again tried to approach Philip’s immobile figure on the grass, but Annie—Andrea—swung the garden tool. “Stay back! I’m afraid it cannot be helped now.”
“Andrea, this is madness.” The doctor leaped to the ground. “How are you protecting us? By assaulting the duke? Threatening the duchess? Have you lost your mind?”
“The only thing I have lost is any faith I once had in you!” she screamed. “I believed, after what happened with the viscountess, that you would reform, that you would not risk another disaster—”
“I have not!” the doctor cried. “I promised you, and I’ve kept my word.”
The maid mocked him with a shrill, false laugh. Audrey tried to comprehend their disagreement, their words, but the earth seemed to be shifting under her feet every few seconds.
“Which viscountess?” she asked.
“The one who bore a son with a port wine mark on its neck—just like the one the good doctor has.” Hugh’s voice reached into the clearing, and straight into Audrey’s chest. It squeezed her heart and brought such relief, she nearly stumbled as she turned, in search of him.
He stepped from the woods, a pistol in his grip. He had the weapon aimed at Annie.
“No!” Dr. Ryder darted toward him, foolishly entering the line of fire. As Hugh scrabbled with the doctor, a hand clamped down upon Audrey and spun her. When she came to a standstill, and Hugh had shoved the doctor aside, the sharp point of a knife pressed into the skin of Audrey’s throat; the maid held her in a vise-like grip as a shield, her garden hoe discarded on the ground. Hugh locked eyes with Audrey, his pistol still raised.
“Andrea—” her brother began.
“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” she cried, her clutching fingers digging hard into Audrey’s upper arm. “You think I did not know? Lady Mary had not shared the earl’s bed in months! But you, always coming around, bringing her tinctures and tonics, andthenshe is suddenly overjoyed. Suddenly with child.”
Hugh maintained his aim, though Audrey could barely breathe at seeing the barrel of his flintlock pointed right at her. A flashing memory of Fellows, aiming his pistol at her, the hot pain slicing through her shoulder, the cold water of the Thames closing over her head… She closed her eyes and breathed out evenly.
“And with that birthmark, everyone would know the truth,” Audrey said, needing to keep her mind out of the depths of fear.
“You would be forced to give up your position at Bainbury Manor,” Hugh added, his voice strained. “You and your brother would have to run again. Change your name again. And your dream of being housekeeper at a fine home would go up in smoke.Again. What did you give up in London, Andrea? Who did you forsake to help your brother start anew?”
Andrea whimpered, and as Dr. Ryder watched helplessly, she slowly backed up, pulling Audrey with her. The ledge of the quarry was not far behind. The point of the knife burned against her skin and something wet tracked down her neck. Blood.
“Stop moving, Andrea. Let the duchess go,” Hugh commanded.
“Drop your pistol!” the maid cried. Pain seared Audrey’s neck as the blade slipped and cut.
Hugh held up both hands and then slowly set the weapon on the grass. He met Audrey’s eyes again, and she wanted only to be near him. He was safety—solid and certain and honorable. She needed more time. Needed to keep Andrea talking.
“You knew Charlotte was pregnant when her lady’s maid sent that missive to Ida. You followed her to the cottage,” she said.
“But Ida was going to help her end the pregnancy,” Hugh continued. “Why chase Charlotte down and kill her?”
The answer burst into Audrey’s head. “Because she changed her mind.” She was seeing so clearly, so vividly, and she knew it was the quickly approaching ledge that was causing such clarity. “She wanted a child desperately after suffering those two miscarriages. She changed her mind and sent Ida away… But you followed her.”
“She said I was crazy,” Andrea said. “Said I didn’t know what I was talking about.”
“Because you didn’t,” Audrey replied. It was a risk to anger the person who was holding the blade to her throat, poised to cut deeper. But if she did and said nothing, she would still be in the same amount of danger. “You were wrong. Your brother was not the father. Lord Renfry was.”
She felt the young woman’s shock in the renewed pressure of the knife.
“You’re lying,” Andrea said as Audrey mewled in pain, the blade nicking her again.
“She isn’t!” Dr. Ryder said. “The duchess is right, Andrea, it was Renfry. I promise you—”
“Your promises mean nothing!” She lunged backward, and Audrey had no choice but to trip along with her.
“He seduced his stepmothers out of hatred and bitterness toward his father,” Hugh said, raising his voice. “Your brother is not the villain here, Andrea.”
“No!” she screamed in Audrey’s ear.
