Her mother shifted, lifting her chin. “Sadly, accidents happen daily.”
Harriet’s stomach clenched. It was all she could do not to grab her mother’s arm and rush them both out the door before he said anything more.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to pay my respects at his funeral. I was abroad for several months.” He shook his head. “I can’t understand it. A fall seems so out of character. He was in excellent health when we visited not long before that.”
Her mother’s face grew pale. “I’m certain you’ve taken a misstep yourself at one time or another. Such things can occur quickly.”
“Hmm. Never a misstep at the top of the stairs where a handrail is surely within reach.”
Bile rose in the back of Harriet’s throat as memories of that terrible moment flew at her like bats swooping out of a cave.
“I suppose we will never know exactly how it happened.” Her mother pursed her lips, clearly upset by the conversation.
Reverend Henderson’s focus shifted between Harriet and her mother. “No one witnessed the...accident?”
Harriet’s chest tightened at the emphasis he placed on the word. She couldn’t have responded if her life depended on it. Nor could she move. Not when ice filled her veins, chilling her to the bone.
“No one,” her mother said, her voice tight. “Such a tragedy. Now then, we must be going.” She glanced at Mr. Purdy who had stopped to listen rather than working on her order. “Please have my order delivered when it’s ready.”
The apothecary seemed to realize his lapse and glanced at the empty bottle before him. “Of course, my lady. You’ll receive it this afternoon.”
“Thank you.” Her mother glanced at Henderson. “Reverend.” Then she reached for Harriet’s arm and walked toward the door.
Thank goodness she took hold of Harriet, or she would’ve still been standing there, staring at the reverend.
Only once they were settled in the carriage did her mother show any emotion. She pressed a gloved hand to her mouth as she held Harriet’s gaze. “How unfortunate to come upon the reverend.”
“He acted as if he suspected something.” Harriet blinked back tears as fear clutched at her throat. “How did he know my stepfather?” Though he’d frequently told Harriet that she could call him Father, she’d refused. He could never have taken the place of her father.
Her mother leaned back against the tufted seat as if her strength had fled as the carriage rolled forward. “I don’t know exactly, but Henry admired the reverend. I believe Henry donated to his church at one point.”
Harriet stared out the window but didn’t see any of the passing scenery. Her heart raced at the idea of being questioned by the reverend or anyone else about what had happened that terrible night. “Mother—”
“You will not say a word, Harriet.”
“But I—”
“No.” Her mother shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “We’ve already discussed this. Nothing happened. What Reverend Henderson thinks doesn’t change anything.”
Despite her mother’s insistence, Harriet feared it did.
~*~
JOSEPH LOOKED BETWEENHarriet and her mother, certain he hadn’t called at a good time. When his carriage had pulled up before Harriet’s home as she and her mother were exiting theirs, he’d thought his luck excellent.
But before he’d even greeted the ladies, it was clear something was amiss.
Harriet looked distraught, her body stiff, and if he didn’t know better, he thought she might have been crying. Her mother didn’t look any better, her face pale and a glaze of worry in her eyes.
Lady Chapman had looked at her daughter then at him, clearly confused by Joseph’s presence. Still, the lady had invited him for tea.
Now they sat in the drawing room, waiting for the tea to arrive, conversing in a stilted fashion. He wanted to distract Harriet and her mother from whatever was bothering them but couldn’t seem to keep from watching Harriet long enough to think of what to say.
Harriet sat on the edge of her seat, hands clasped tightly together in her lap, her gaze focused on something just over his shoulder. Her demeanor was so different than it had been last evening that it was clear something distressful had occurred.
He didn’t think it was anything he’d done. Yet the worry remained all the same. If only her mother would step out of the room, so he could inquire as to what was amiss.
Unfortunately, Lady Chapman showed no sign of leaving. Her gaze darted about the room, her thoughts clearly elsewhere even while she attempted a few remarks about the weather.