One year earlier
Rowena was certain her uncle had stolen the letter from inside her pillowcase. She wasn’t safe. And neither was Mr. Travis. She had to get away, had to warn Tabitha, maybe convince her to come along. She waited until it was long past midnight before creeping out of her bedroom. She’d have to get her belongings in the carriage and have Reece waiting before she woke Tabitha.
“Rowena, there you are.”
Her uncle was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, stepping out of the shadows before she even saw him there. He took her wrist, hard enough to bruise. “We need to talk.”
He yanked her into his study. “You’ve been keeping secrets.”
Her mouth was dry. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I found your father’s letter. You mean to elope with a poor tailor’s son. I can’t think what my brother means by allowing you this madness.”
“I …”
He smiled. “There’s no need to fret. I only wish you’d come to me about it instead of sneaking around.”
“You … do?”
“Of course. You’re my niece. I only want what’s best for you.”
“I love him, Uncle Reginald.”
“I’m sure you do. You’re full young to marry, child.”
She tilted her chin mutinously. “It’s what we want.”
“I see.” He handed her a crystal glass of sweet wine. “A toast, then.”
She didn’t want to drink. She wanted to find Reece and find a vicar to marry them. But her uncle had always looked after her and Tabitha; it would be rude to turn away a gesture of reconciliation, even if her nerves suddenly felt like embroidery floss, tangled and frayed.
She drank the horrible, cloying wine. It clung to her tongue like syrup. She made a face.
Her uncle smiled. His bulk had always been cheerful. Now it was menacing. “Shall we take a turn around the garden? You look a little pale.”
She blinked, perplexed. “What?”
“Come, we’ll go now.” He took her arm tightly, maneuvering her out through the door leading outside. The moon was a pale curve of light, nearly blue through the haze of clouds. She stared at it for a moment. It was so pretty.
She blinked again, lifted a hand to her head.“What’s happening to me?”
The crickets sounded like little violins in the hedges. They made her giggle.
“Let’s walk, shall we?” Her uncle was all hard politeness as he dragged her out beyond the yew hedges and the stand of birch trees. The lawns gave way to green fields. Rain pattered softly over them. The water was silvery, falling oddly, as if it were moving through molasses instead of air. Then the raindrops went sharp, like needles. She recoiled.
“What have you done to me? Is it poison?”
“Certainly not, that would be far too messy. It’s only laudanum, my dear. You were overset.”
She froze, tried to stop from feeling as if the ground were undulating under her feet. “I didn’t take any laudanum.” She was weaving back and forth and couldn’t seem to stop herself. Over the drenched hills, the pond glimmered. “Did I?” She knew she should be terrified but she felt only floaty, sleepy. “The wine.”
He still hadn’t released her arm. She felt the bruises lifting to the surface of her skin already. She might have struggled but it seemed like an awful lot of effort.
He gripped her chin, peered into her eyes. “Pupils are changing,” he said. “Good. Not long now.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m afraid you’re about to have a tragic accident.” He shook his head sadly. “I wish you’d had better manners, Rowena. I hate to do this.”
She stumbled. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. “But I’m your niece.”
“All the more regrettable.” He hauled her to her feet when she would have collapsed. “You thought you’d leave me destitute, did you? Thought you could elope without me knowing about it?”
The euphoria was fading. She felt only exhausted and strange, as if she had little control over her own limbs. She struggled weakly. “Uncle Reginald,” she begged thinly. “Please.”
“You did this to yourself,” he said sternly. “If you think I’m going to let you marry some tradesman and take this all away from me, you’re stupid.”
Reese. The thought of his serious face made her struggle like a scalded cat with a mouthful of pepper. She fought so violently her uncle cursed, unable to restrain her. His hands came around her throat. She clawed at him, choking. He applied more pressure, strangling her slowly until her vision went black.
When she fainted, he shifted her unwieldy weight, carrying her to the edge of the pond. The water was soft and dark as he slid her unresponsive body under its surface.
She opened her eyes only once, barely, before the water claimed her.