Page 129 of The Dravenhearst Brides
“Anyone else?”
“Alastair knew, of course.”
“Was he there that night?”
Ruth frowned. “He wasn’t invited. Richard would no longer welcome him in the house. But he was lurking outside, waiting for Babette. They planned to run away together that night.”
Two men unaccounted for. Two men who were each potentially the last person to see Babette alive.
Margot drummed her fingers on her lap. “It could have been either one of them who harmed her.”
“I’ve always believed it was Richard,” Ruth said. “Merrick was right to lock up that rickhouse, mark my words. There’s a malevolence living in there. Spirits are never stronger in our natural world than at the places where they lost their lives. No good can come from dredging up the past, Margot.”
“I disagree.” She straightened in her seat. “I think what’s been buried and hidden here has long since rotted out. I think we tiptoe on decayed ground. The way forward is through, not around.”
This house was like a canker sore—a living, pulsating wound that festered across generations. It had been bandaged for far too long. Cauterized but not cured.
Ruth paled. “You really mean to do it, then? You want him to reopen the rickhouse.”
“I do. He’ll turn a profit from the bourbon to secure our future, and I’ll ferret out these final family secrets to set us free from the past.”
Margot found Evangeline next. She was mixing elixirs in her gardening shed, humming to herself under her breath. Margot nearly turned tail when she recognized the tune.
Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock.
Evangeline wore gardening gloves as she chopped a cluster of green herbs with a long-handled knife. Her fingers moved with precision, dumping the pieces into a pestle, preparing for pulverization.
“Remember when you told me I needed to talk about the things that hurt?” Margot asked, leaning in the doorway.
Evangeline looked up, startled.
Margot took a deep breath. “I think this entire family needs to do the same thing.”
When she shared her plans to open the rickhouse, Evangeline smiled. Oh, how she smiled. The most beatific grin, larger by the second.
“It’s the only way,” Evangeline agreed. “Those women need to be set free. All of us do.”
“You missed a bit there.” Margot pointed, but Evangeline swatted her hand away.
“Careful, sugar. Not with unprotected skin. That there’s belladonna cuttings.”
Belladonna?Margot flinched back. “What are you working with that for?”
“What, this?” She tilted her head, amused. “I grind it up to make a tincture for Xander. For his hands. It helps with his tremors.”
“But isn’t it poisonous?”
“Not after I dilute it. If it’s poison you’re after, you want the berries. Those are the easiest to extract. Which reminds me.” Evangeline picked up the knife and pointed it at Margot. “Have you been skulking around my garden in the evenings?”
“No.” Margot frowned.
“I found the gate unlatched a few weeks back. And again only a few days ago. I always keep my special friends locked up tight. It’s no place for midnight wandering. Very dangerous.”
“I’ve not been inside,” Margot said truthfully, backing away.
“All right, sugar.” Evangeline nodded, satisfied. She plucked a few fresh leaves from her bundle and continued dicing.
