His back drooped a little, and the spirit seemed to go out of him, but I was still wary. He was a changeable creature. His manner might be soft and gentle with me, but he had killed in cold blood, and I was deeply conscious of the fact that we were alone together.
“Lady Julia, you must believe I did what I did because it had to be done. And I have paid for it every moment since. I cannot close my eyes that I do not see his, staring up at me as I pressed the life out of him. I am not accustomed to such dark deeds. I am a clergyman’s son from Kent,” he said with a small, mirthless laugh. “What do I know of such things?”
Tears gathered in his eyes again. “My father was right, you know. He always told me that of the seven deadly sins, envy was the deadliest. I was envious of Lucian Snow. It was not just that he was a monster. It was that he had everything I had not. And he did not deserve it.”
“That was not for you to decide, Henry.”
“I wanted to believe I was an instrument of justice. At least that is what I told myself when I thought of taking his life. But when the moment came, there in the chapel, when my hand tightened at his throat, all I felt was that cursed envy. I knew I was taking away from him everything he had that I did not, and I delighted in it. Tell me, Lady Julia,” he said, his voice cracking on a sob, “who is the monster?”
He fell into me then, and I shied from him. But he meant me no harm. He was sobbing, the great, racking sobs of a child whose heart has been irreparably broken, and all he looked for in me was comfort. Without thinking, I put a hand on his back and petted him. He slid from the chair to his knees and stayed there, weeping into my lap for some time. Finally he recovered himself and drew back, wiping his face with a handkerchief.
“I am sorry. More than that, I am penitent. I know justice must be served, Lady Julia. I am content you should go and tell his lordship. I give you my word I will not try to escape,” he said, straightening his shoulders and looking me squarely in the eye.
I rose and edged my way to the door. I did not truly believe he would harm me, but I had been wrong about such things before. It seemed to me a little caution, even at this late juncture, would be prudent.
“Will you grant me one thing before you go?” he asked. He had command of himself now, but only lightly. His shoulders were trembling and his tone was plaintive.
“If I can,” I told him, my fingers wrapped about the doorknob.
He raised his chin, summoning his dignity. “Will you promise not to think too badly of me? I would not like to think that I was entirely friendless in this world, although God knows I do not deserve your regard.”
I paused a moment, my instincts warring. Then I released the doorknob, and with cool deliberation walked to where he stood. I put out my hand.
“You are not friendless, Henry. It is not in my power to forgive you, but neither is it in my power to condemn you.”
Solemnly as a judge, he shook my hand and the ghost of a smile touched his mouth.
“Thank you for that. Your kindness means more to me than you can possibly comprehend.”
I nodded and hurried out, stopping only when there was a stout door between us. I took a few deep breaths, not surprised to find my legs could barely hold me up. I was shaking, and cursing myself for a fool. But there was no time for recrimination. I hastened to Father’s room and banged upon the door. He must have returned to his room whilst I had been hearing Henry Ludlow’s confession, for he had already retired to bed; he was half-buried in a pile of mastiff pups, dear Crab snuffling in her sleep on the floor.
“What the devil is it now?” he growled, sitting up and straightening his nightcap.
“Father, you must come. Ludlow has just confessed to the murder of Lucian Snow.”
It took several minutes before I could make him understand what I had just learned, his expression growing more ominous by the minute.
“You mean to say you went to this man’s room alone to accuse him of murder?”
“Not precisely, no,” I temporised. “But he has confessed it, and you must come.”
It took three more tries to coax him out of bed, and by that time he was scolding me bitterly.
“For an intelligent woman, Julia, you are by far the most headstrong, reckless, thoughtless,fecklessof my children. Andthatis quite saying something,” he grumbled, tumbling the puppies as he threw aside his bedclothes.
I retreated hastily to the corridor and paced, waiting for him to appear. He had dressed himself quickly, not bothering with collar and cuffs.
“You might want to remove, er—” I pointed to his nightcap. “It lacks a certain gravitas.”
He gave me a filthy look, then yanked off the offending garment and stuffed it into his pocket. “Get Brisbane,” he ordered. “I will take Aquinas to Ludlow’s room and we shall take him into custody. God only knows where we will put him. I suppose we must lock him in the wine cellar,” he trailed off, more to himself than to me.
“Father, let me find Aquinas. Brisbane’s room is quite near Ludlow’s. You could fetch him on the way,” I suggested.
Father regarded me coldly. “I have no wish to speak to him at present.Wordswere exchanged this evening. No, you go and tell him what you were about, and I will deal with the matter of Henry Ludlow.”
I whirled and left the room, thoroughly put out with his peremptory attitude. I stalked to the Galilee Tower and rapped sharply, my temper rising. Brisbane answered the door on the first knock, still dressed in trousers and shirt, his dressing gown thrown over his shoulders. “What has happened?” he demanded without preliminaries.
“Henry Ludlow has confessed to murdering Mr. Snow. Father has gone to fetch Aquinas to lock Ludlow in the wine cellar,” I said. His eyes narrowed in suspicion and I retreated a step.