Truth revealed
1098 Words
*Bill*
“Tell me precisely what happened at Heatherwood,” Wicky demands.
I know I could have spared her the trip to Claybourne’s, but it wasn’t my lie to reveal. We’re in the Claybourne library, a room so large that, with the door closed, it’s unlikely anyone will overhear our conversation. We’re all standing; Claybourne’s leaning against his desk, Evangeline’s near her husband, and Wicky stands before them, fists clenched.
At least her trembling has stopped. I want to be beside her, hold her close, but she seems determined to face this alone, so I wait, arms crossed. It’s her battle.
“Why don’t we all take a seat?” Evangeline asks. “I’ll ring for tea.”
“I don’t want tea,” Wicky says. “I want to know about the fire at Heatherwood. Did you actually see Riverdale die in it?”
Evangeline glances at Claybourne before looking back at Wicky. “Wicky, you must understand that I was terrified for you.”
“What did you do?” she asks, her voice laced with trepidation.
“Do sit,” Evangeline urges.
Wicky shakes her head, “I don’t think I shall. I have the impression that what you are about to tell me is best taken standing.”
‘Good for you,’ I think, admiring her backbone. Her husband nearly broke it. I hope she’ll hang onto it when she knows the truth.
Evangeline clears her throat. “The night he beat you to within an inch of your life, before we left your residence, we hinted to the servants that we were taking you to Heatherwood. Instead, of course, we took you to Bill. Then Claybourne and I went on alone to Heatherwood.”
“Riverdale arrived a couple of nights later demanding that we give you to him. When he learned you weren’t there, he went into a rage, attacked Claybourne. In the scuffle a burning lamp shattered on the floor, the kerosene and flames igniting the carpet and draperies. Claybourne got the upper hand and knocked Riverdale unconscious. But by the time he did, the fire was raging. While I take no pride in it, I was grateful that he didn’t have the means to escape the fire.”
Wicky straightens her back even more, “So he did die, you left him to die.”
Evangeline hesitates. “Wicky…”
“For the Goddess sake tell her the truth,” I snap, “because if you don’t I will.”
Her brow furrows, Wicky’s gaze snaps to me, and not averting mine is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
“Claybourne carried him out,” Evangeline says quickly, regaining Wicky’s attention.
“So he didn’t die?”
Evangeline sadly shakes her head.
Wicky stumbles back. “But I saw the body.”
“You saw a body, dressed in Riverdale’s clothes, wearing his rings. We arranged for Riverdale to be transported to New Zealand as a criminal, under another name. We can only deduce that he either managed to escape or convinced someone to set him free.”
“You can only deduce? So you believe he’s here, wreaking havoc with my sanity, and you didn’t think I needed to know?”
Evangeline nods reluctantly. “We believed we could handle it without you being the wiser. You thought you were a widow…”
Wicky staggers back as though she has taken a blow. Horrified, she looks at me and I know she’s thinking of last night, her marriage vows, how she unwittingly broke them. “I’m not a widow. My son is not the alpha.”
“No one need know that,” Evangeline says. “We will find him. We will set matters to right.”
“I think you all have done quite enough.” She slowly turns to face me squarely. “You robbed graves in your youth, so I assume you provided the body. Where did you get it?”
“Potter’s Field.”
“A pauper is buried in my husband’s family’s crypt?”
It brings me no pride, but I nod.
“All along you knew he was alive. Last night…” Tears well in her eyes. “You knew I wasn’t a widow. You knew I wasn’t… free.”
I have no response to that accusation. I knew, damn me, and I prioritized my need to have her above all else.
She advances on me. “I thought I was going mad. Things disappearing, reappearing. Sounds in the night. His scent wafting through the house, which I now realize must have been wafting in his wake. He was in my son’s room. He was in my room. You knew all this and yet you let me doubt my sanity.”
“You can’t blame him,” Evangeline says. “When we decided to do this, we took a vow of secrecy.”
Wicky’s gaze never leaves mine. “A vow more important than me.” Then she laughs, a sound devoid of joy. “Your attentions of late, were they all part of this elaborate scheme to hide what you’d done, to ensure I didn’t learn the truth?”
It’s easier to lie than tell her the truth because right now she wouldn’t believe me anyway. “I wanted to be certain I was there to protect you should he show himself.”
“You left me to suffer. You didn’t trust me not to betray you.”
“Wicky, you wept when I told you he was dead,” Evangeline says.
“Of course I wept. With profound relief because no one would ever hurt me again.” She turns back to me. “Although I was mistaken there. How was I to know the pain of broken bones pales in comparison to that of a broken heart?”
“Wicky, it was never my intention to hurt you.”
She gives a caustic laugh. “Do you know that Riverdale said those precise words after every time he hit me?”
Nothing else she could have said would cut me as deeply.
Glancing quickly at the others, she says, “Please, I beg you all, don’t help me any further. I shall see to this matter myself.”
Chin held high, she marches from the room, marches out of my life. I let her go because I know I’ve killed whatever love she might have held for me.
I’m vaguely aware of Evangeline touching my arm. “What she said, it wasn’t fair.”
“It was completely fair.”
- Writer
