Sophia had to act quickly before the foolish woman pulled the trigger. “You’re not our sister,” she said, her voice quivering with panic. “And Clarence Draper cannot possibly be your father. The facts work against you, I’m afraid.”
Maud’s gorgon gaze shot from Mr Archer to Sophia. “Facts?”
“Well, to begin with, Clarence Draper was not our father. He was our uncle.”
Everyone in the room sucked in a sharp breath, even Finlay.
“Liar!” Maud countered.
“It’s true,” Jessica confirmed.
Sophia gave a contemptuous snort. “Our parents died in a carriage accident when Jessica was three months old. The Drapers brought us from the wilds of North Yorkshire to the house in Godstow. They were our guardians but wanted everyone to believe they were our parents.”
Hence the reason her father wished to avoid a scandal.
It took Maud a moment to process the information. “Then it’s worse than I thought. Clarence Draper preferred his nieces to his own daughter.”
“No,” Sophia said, relishing telling the next part of the tale. “The Drapers treated us like their daughters because they could not have children of their own. During her first marriage, Mrs Draper had a babe who died in infancy. So you see, it was Mr Draper who could not sire a child.” Sophia let the information take root before adding. “We came to Godstow when Jessica was three, when Clarence Draper inherited the house from his uncle. Before then, a merchant leased the property. So you see, you were wrong in your assumptions about my father.”
Maud’s face flushed with humiliation.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Maud’s panicked gaze flitted wildly about the room like a trapped bird seeking escape. But then something shifted. Fear turned to fury. Her beady eyes narrowed as though she might swoop and peck out their eyeballs.
“Then I suppose there’s only one solution to my problem.” The cold, hard look in Maud’s eyes had Sophia’s stomach churning.
“Jessica doesn’t deserve your disdain,” Sophia choked. “She has suffered enough for your ignorance. I can’t explain why you look so similar.” Perhaps it was just another cruel trick of fate. “But it’s not for the reason you think.”
“Yes,” was all Maud said before releasing Jessica.
Jessica gasped with shock, then relief. She raced into Sophia’s arms, and they both sobbed until Finlay’s loud curse captured their attention.
With a trembling hand, Maud pressed the pistol to her temple.
“Lower the pistol, Maud.” Finlay raised his hands in mock surrender. “This isn’t the answer. Do you want to condemn your soul to hell?”
“The world is cruel.” The first of many tears dripped off Maud’s nose. “People are cruel. What is there to live for?”
Mr Archer stepped forward. “Perhaps we might leave England and promise never to return.”
Maud shook her head and laughed—the sound carrying a lifetime of resentment.
“What? So you can poison my tea when my back is turned? So you might conduct your sordid affairs? Treat me as a maid?”
If only Mr Archer possessed the wisdom of hindsight, then he might not have said, “Loath me to point out the obvious, but you were, in fact, a maid.”
Maud laughed again, a high-pitched cackle which saw her aim the small flintlock pistol at Mr Archer and fire.
A thud, a choking puff of smoke and a blinding orange flash from the ignited charge made them all instinctively drop to their knees. Mr Archer dropped to his knees, too. But while everyone else patted their chests, checked for blood and scrambled to their feet, Mr Archer glanced down at the hole in his shirt and the deepening burgundy stain.
“Bloody hell!” Finlay cried. “Quick, lie him down.”
D’Angelo sprang forward to offer his assistance. “He’s taken a shot to the heart,” he said gravely.
Maud stood in stunned silence while Finlay worked on Mr Archer. The man deserved to die, but not before being held accountable for his crimes. Besides, they would be inhuman, just as wicked as these devils, if they stood idly by and watched a man die.
“Give me something to stem the bleeding.” Blood glistened thick and red on Finlay’s hands and cheek.