Brandgwyn, when Margot returned, was a house of ghosts. Even the dour Fleury was not in evidence. Nobody was. As her philosophy embraced the sturdy if cold-shock cliché of always taking the bull by the horns, she went straight upstairs and rapped on Melissa’s living-room door.
Melissa was alone. She was sitting with a book, unopened, on her lap. Her kindly eyes and smile as she greeted Margot were bleak.
“I’m glad you’ve come, Miss Gilland. Henry and Francine went for a little drive to take the air. I didn’t feel quite up to going with them, and I’ve been lonely.”
“I wish that what I’ve come to see you about was more pleasant, Mrs. Tyler. It’s something which Mr. Harden feels you must know. Although it concerns Francine, I’m just as certain as I know you will be that she personally had
