Calista, Laura Rahme [best ereader for comics txt] 📗

There have been countless animals. Even young black slaves taken from illegal ships. I cannot say more. Your brother believes he is going to prove that animal magnetism is real. But I am exhausted and I no longer believe in his work. I only see the cruelty and the madness. I wish for it to stop.

If it does not cease, if no one will stop it, then I feel that only χάος will result. Do you know this word, Miss Vera? Chaos. You think it is the same in my language and in yours? You are wrong. Because in Greek, it means the abyss and into this dark world, all things are sunk. What Aaron has done is so wrong.

What could be worse, Miss Vera? What could be worse? I know of one other thing. I believed he loved me. But I was wrong. He has tricked me. He has tricked the people in my village. I am forever wronged and it hurts so much.

There is in Alexandra Hall a stain that can never be washed away. I beg of you, I cannot remain here. Please. I must return to my village. I cry every night. I try to forget the horrible things he has made me do but I cannot. 

I understand if you do not wish to see me but I beg you, please come as soon as you can to Alexandra Hall. Please have pity on another woman so far from home.

Maurice read it again, horrified by its revelations. He seized the letter and threw the casket back into the trunk.

As he left Aaron’s room, thoughts rang in his mind. He recalled what Mrs. Cleary had confided earlier in the week: Vera had received a letter from Calista and rushed to her while she lay ill for several days.

This was the very letter. The date did not lie. It was Calista’s plea for help. How, then, had it come into Aaron’s possession? How could it have been hidden in his locked casket?

Maurice’s throat tightened as he understood. Vera must have betrayed Calista. She had revealed all to her brother and handed the letter to him.

And now the pieces fell into place. For Maurice recalled Aaron’s own unsent letter to Vera, months later, right before he died.

I have forgiven you.

Lay your mind at rest, for you are lucky. Mary could have ruined everything for all of us. However, all is well.

He knew, now, what Aaron meant. Mary had seen something.

Maurice’s thoughts raced. Upon interviewing Mary this week, he had grown convinced that she knew something and refused to speak of it. The maid had giggled at the thought of Vera’s death. Had she not also made a statement? He had ruled it out, and never recorded it in his notes. What was it?

“I think Miss Vera was smothered with a pillow. It would make perfect sense, don’t you think?”

Mary implied that Vera’s smothering to death was befitting… or perhaps, deserving?

He had dismissed Mary’s words as evidence of feeble-mindedness, but what if it wasn’t? He could still hear Mrs. Cleary, warning him about Mary. She confuses everything. She is untrustworthy.

No, thought Maurice. Mary had done more than confuse everything. She had disguised the truth about Vera.

There was only one way to find out for sure.

Where was Mary?

He bolted down the stairs, then looked for the girl in the commons kitchen, the scullery then the washing room. She was not there. Maurice cocked an ear for Willy’s barks. Nothing. He pushed open the French doors. No sign of Mary or Mrs. Cleary in the kitchen.

Maurice returned to the entrance hall and peered out from the glass doors. There was no one outside. Turning to the parlour, he felt a jolt of surprise.

Mary sat there all along. She faced away from him, her brown hair cresting over the velvet divan. As he approached, he heard the young woman soothing herself while coddling Willy.

It was unusual for Mary or any of the housemaids to be seated in the parlour. Maurice sensed this oddity but he brushed it aside, determined to question the young maid.

He crouched in front of her with a smile.

“There you are, Mary. It’s lovely to see you. I have been thinking,” he said.

She looked up, her eyes widening with fright.

“It’s ok, Mary. Would you like to know what I think? I think you are cleverer than you let out. I truly believe that. I think you know things about the people in this house, and that I should have listened to you from the start.”

Mary blinked. A new light shone in her eyes as she studied him with curiosity.

Maurice took note of the fresh bruises along her neck and arms. He cursed Mrs. Cleary internally. “Here, Mary, I would really like to show you something.”

He removed his vest and undid the collar of his shirt. He pushed aside the fabric to reveal the large scar on his shoulder where Therese had once burnt him.

Mary’s lip parted in surprise.

Maurice replaced his collar. “It no longer hurts. Just remember that. I’ve never shown this scar to anyone. You are the first one to see it.” He buttoned up his vest. “Sometimes,” he said, “other grown-ups do not help even when you wish they would come to your aid. And it is hard to be all alone. I know it, because it is what I’ve lived.” He stared into her eyes. “Mary, I think you are a very brave girl. Braver than you think. More brave than anyone in this house. And I know you saw something that you have kept hidden.” He paused. “Do you think you can help me, Mary?”

Mary sat in silence. Her lips trembled.

“I need to know about the