Page 55

A thena shivered beneath her cloak as she and Selena strode down the road to Darkmoor Park, with only their lanterns to light the way.

They had told Mrs. Lloyd they were going for a long evening walk. Athena’s cheeks and nose felt frozen by the time they’d reached the dower house. A glowing lantern hung outside the front door, a dim light emanated from the windows, and smoke was coming from one of the chimneys.

“Mr. Chapman must already be here,” Athena noted.

Despite the chilliness of the night, Athena was perspiring with nervous anticipation.

Her stomach clenched, and every muscle in her body seemed to twitch.

In twenty minutes, the vicar was due to arrive.

A half hour later, if their plan worked, whoever had murdered Harold Sinclair would show up to buy the blank journal Athena carried in her cloak pocket.

If their plan worked.

Their partner in the plot was indeed waiting for them.

The house was freezing inside. Athena noticed that improvements had been made since the last time she had been there.

The walls were plastered and painted, and the floor was partially laid, but a maze of piled-up construction materials still took up residence.

“I made tea—the construction crew left a kettle and teapot—and I lit a fire upstairs for warmth and light,” Mr. Chapman said as he led them up to the vestibule on the second floor. “There’s a good view from the window up here, where we can sit and keep watch.”

The fire in the atrium hearth upstairs did little to dispel the chill. Athena recognized the makeshift table from her previous visit. She had stood just here, admiring Mr. Vernon’s drawings, when he had come up behind her and touched her neck and…

“Tea?” Selena asked, pouring Athena a cup from a steaming teapot.

Athena blinked to clear her head. “Thank you.”

They sat down on mismatched chairs. Selena offered Mr. Chapman a cup.

“Thank you,” he said, “but I finished mine just before you arrived.”

Athena blew on the hot, fragrant brew and took a sip. “You said Mr. Johnson will be here at eight?”

“Yes,” Mr. Chapman confirmed.

“What if he’s late?” Selena shivered as she drank her tea.

“You’ll still have me as a witness,” Mr. Chapman assured them. “But don’t worry. The vicar assured me he would be on time.”

“Who else do you think will show up?” Selena mused wonderingly.

“My money is on Edward Ackroyd,” Mr. Chapman responded.

“I think George Osborn got Mr. Carson to kill Harold Sinclair, and to stage all those attacks on you, Athena.” Selena took another sip.

“Maybe,” Athena replied, enjoying the tea. “But you didn’t hear the venom in Miss Quince’s voice when she described Harold Sinclair and Caroline Vernon. You know what they say. ‘A woman scorned…’”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” Mr. Chapman sat back in his chair.

“Will they come on foot or horseback, do you think?”

“On horseback, I’d wager. To make a fast getaway.” Athena stared out the window, hoping for the sound of hoofbeats or footfalls that would signal the approach of Mr. Johnson. But all was silent. Strangely, her head began to feel light, as if she’d had too many glasses of wine.

“Are you all right, Miss Taylor?” Mr. Chapman had a peculiar expression on his face.

“I don’t know. I feel weird all of a sudden.”

“So do I,” Selena admitted. “My head is spinning.”

“I’m suddenly very tired. I don’t know why,” Athena said.

“I can barely keep my eyes open,” Selena murmured.

“Indeed?” remarked Mr. Chapman. He’d spoken only a single word, but his tone and expression had shifted to something dark and seemingly self-satisfied.

Athena stared at him, suddenly wary. “Mr. Chapman? What is going on?”

He just smiled. An eerie smile that spread a chill through Athena’s bones.

All at once, it occurred to her that there was no empty, used teacup in the room. The awful truth dawned upon her. Mr. Chapman had not drunk any tea at all. The vicar wasn’t on his way. And they weren’t waiting for a villain to arrive.

The villain was sitting across from them. He had drugged them—put something in their tea.

Selena was sagging in her chair, but her wide-eyed expression suggested that she had reached the same conclusion. “You never mailed those letters, did you, Mr. Chapman?” she asked softly.

A deep lethargy seemed to be wrapping itself around Athena’s mind and body. “And you never spoke to Mr. Johnson or anyone at the pub.”

He shrugged. “Why would I? You have been a thorn in my side, Miss Taylor, ever since we met, the day I arrived at Darkmoor Bridge. Or should I say, the day after I arrived. In fact, I came a day earlier than I had planned or led you to believe I would.”

Although exhaustion and newfound dread were creeping into her every pore, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place in Athena’s mind. Why didn’t I see it before? “You ran into Sally Osborn that day.”

“Right after I stepped off the coach.” He frowned in annoyance. “I’d never thought to see her again.”

Athena remembered now—Mr. Chapman had said he’d been in the neighborhood a month or two before Harold Sinclair’s death. “And Sally recognized you.”

“Very inconveniently.” He stood and, from a box nearby, withdrew a coil of rope and a knife.

Athena’s pulse jumped in fear. “Wait, wait.” What was he planning to do to them? She needed to stand up, grab Selena by the hand, and flee. But she couldn’t move.

“What are you saying, Mr. Chapman?” Selena’s eyelids were drooping. “Did you kill Sally Osborn and Harold Sinclair?”

“Not Sinclair. I got Sally to do it.” He chuckled. “Sally would have done anything for me.”

Athena, her heart pounding with alarm, struggled to process this remark. Could it be true? Did Sally Osborn murder Harold Sinclair? If so, why? “Why kill Harold Sinclair?”

“He was a bully. He was three years ahead of me at Eton and he tormented me every single day.”

Athena’s breath hitched. She recalled Mr. Chapman mentioning that as a young man, he had met Harold Sinclair. He had also described his school days with great distaste. “Boys’ schools in England are a place of torture, Miss Taylor.” But she’d had no idea that they’d gone to school together.

He began wrapping the rope around Athena’s upper body.

She realized in horror that he was tying her to the chair.

She tried to fight back, but she was too weak, and he was so much stronger.

Instinct told her to take a deep breath and hold it, to expand her ribcage as much as possible despite the binds of her corset.

“Nine years ago, when I came to Darkmoor Park to visit Mrs. Hillman, we had dinner at Woodcroft House,” Mr. Chapman went on as he worked with the rope.

Athena cried out in pain as the cord pressed against her dog bite wounds.

“Harold Sinclair hadn’t changed a bit,” Mr. Chapman went on, impervious to her distress.

“He was still the same arrogant, conceited swine who had tried to drown me and bury me alive and… trust me, you ladies don’t want to know what goes on at a boys’ school.

I’d wished Sinclair dead for years and when we were invited to that garden party, I knew it would be my chance.

But I didn’t want to put myself at risk.

I made it known that I was returning to my tutoring position in southern England, but instead, I got a room in Harrowfield in secret, and I spent a few weeks romancing the parlor maid. ”

“Sally,” Selena murmured before she slid from her chair in a heap.

Selena must have drunk more tea than I did , Athena thought, but even so, she was incapacitated and in a frightened daze.

She winced at the tug of the rope as Mr. Chapman tied a knot beneath her ribcage and she watched him cut off the rope end with the knife.

At last, she slowly let out the breath she’d been holding.

She had to keep Mr. Chapman talking, if only to help her stay conscious. “You courted Sally Osborn?”

“She fell for me like a ton of bricks. That is, the man she thought me to be. It’s amazing how easily one can change their appearance by dying their hair blond and adopting a false mustache.”

All this time, they’d been looking for a blond. “What did you do? Tell her what a villain Mr. Sinclair was and promise to marry her?” Athena’s voice sounded so sluggish now, she didn’t recognize it.

“Something like that.” Chapman brought the remaining length of rope over to Selena, who lay on the floor, passed out cold.

“Sally hated Harold Sinclair—he had been cruel to her. It was child’s play to convince her to poison his drink.

But I worried she’d talk. I should have killed her the day after the party, but I was afraid that suspicion might fall on me. ”

With a gasp, Athena realized that her theory about two suspects instead of one had been correct. She’d just had the wrong two people. It had been Sally and Mr. Chapman. “So, you blackmailed Ethel Leighton into… lying at Caroline Vernon’s trial.”

“Again, not hard. I’d overheard her at the pub, telling her beau about the money she had stolen from Arthur Vernon.

She was terrified about going to prison.

” Mr. Chapman began tying Selena’s hands behind her back.

“I stayed away for nine years and thought that was long enough. I needed to rekindle my relationship with Mrs. Hillman so that stupid woman would finally name me in her will as her heir. But the minute I got here, I ran into Sally. She recognized me even with my natural hair color.”

“Did she threaten to… turn you in? And herself?” Sally must have felt so guilty. She had become obsessed with the Bible, after all.

He chuckled again. “How did you guess? I had to think fast. I said I had never stopped thinking about her—that I’d come back to ask her to marry me. I told her to meet me at our usual spot down by the river.”

That’s why Sally wore the blue shoes , Athena thought. She still had feelings for Mr. Chapman, and she bought his lie. “And that’s where you killed her.”