Masquerade of Vengeance (The Rutherford Trilogy Book 3) by Alice Chetwynd Ley

Author:Alice Chetwynd Ley [Chetwynd Ley, Alice]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2019-10-29T16:00:00+00:00

“You wished to see me, madam?” Healey entered the schoolroom in response to Anthea’s summons, closing the door behind her. She looked deathly pale and her hands were tightly clasped in front of her.

“Yes, Healey. Pray sit down. How is your mistress?”

The maid’s lips trembled as she obeyed.

“Not at all well, madam, I’m sorry to say.”

“You don’t look at all well yourself,” said Anthea gently. “No doubt this dreadful business is playing upon your nerves, too.”

The kind tone was too much for Healey. She burst into tears.

“Oh, ma’am, it do that — if only you knew — if only I could tell you —”

The words were punctuated by sobs. Anthea rose, putting a comforting arm briefly around the maid’s shoulders.

“There, there. But I do know, Healey.”

The sobbing checked abruptly as Healey raised a tear-stained face to Anthea’s.

“You do, ma’am? But how can you possibly?”

Anthea resumed her seat.

“No matter how,” she said calmly, “but, believe me, I am fully informed about events from the long distant past which have a bearing on Sir Eustace Knowle’s murder. I’ve also been told what was said in the interview between you and the Bow Street Runner Watts earlier today. It seems, Healey, that there was one question you failed to answer.”

“I — I — I feel queer, ma’am — I’m going to swoon —”

The maid swayed in her chair, but Anthea leapt forward and forced her head down between her knees.

“I dare say,” she said ruthlessly. “And I’m sure you’ve sufficient reason. But you are the only person who can give any guidance to the identity of Sir Eustace’s murderer, and you must speak. Otherwise there may be yet more murders — do you understand?”

Healey moaned, but sat upright, supporting her face in her hands. Anthea stood back from her, waiting. It was several moments before the maid spoke.

“All right, I’ll tell. But that Runner’ll need to keep an eye on me, for Gawd only knows what’ll become of me, else! He’s a fiend in human shape! Yes, I did see him.”

Anthea felt a surge of excitement, but she schooled herself to listen patiently and ask all the important questions.

At the conclusion of Healey’s account, however, she had to admit to herself that she was disappointed. Apart from confirming that the ex-convict was in the neighbourhood, Healey could offer no positive help in identifying him.

“Is there nothing?” Anthea pressed her desperately. “You say his face was masked and he wore a cloak, so I can quite see that would be a sufficient disguise for one whom you hadn’t seen for close on fifteen years, especially as it was dark in the temple. But was there no mannerism — a trick of gesture or something of that kind — familiar to you from the past? It’s often by such small things that we truly recognise people.”

“Now that you mention it,” replied the maid thoughtfully, “there was — I don’t know — something in his voice. It had altered, I can’t tell how, maybe a trick

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