“Impossible.” Taylor threw the book onto the wooden table, knocking over a pot of soil. “I ripped the manor apart before Stanton purchased the damn place. It has to be at Everleigh.”
“I can assure you it is not. I found the book in my room, hidden underneath the chest of drawers.” She knew not to mention Jacob. “From the dust and cobwebs, it had been there for some time.”
“That blasted bitch,” Taylor spat. He flung his top hat at the wall and shoved his hands through his mop of golden hair, tugging at the roots as if determined to pull out every strand.
Mrs Wilmslow placed a hesitant hand on his arm. “Perhaps this is good news. Perhaps Watson never got around to giving it to Lady Farleigh, and the letter perished in the fire.”
“But you searched both bodies.” Taylor spoke without thought.
A gasp of horror burst from Rose’s mouth. “You killed Lady Farleigh and Mr Watson?”
Taylor glared at her. “I may be guilty of fraud, but I’m not a murderer.”
Mrs Wilmslow grinned. “Lady Farleigh was already dazed from the effects of the laudanum when she arrived at the cottage.” Arrogance dripped from every word. “And Mr Watson certainly didn’t expect me to wallop him with a cudgel.”
The woman was insane, a prime candidate for Bedlam. If anyone deserved to be locked away in Morton Manor, it was Mrs Wilmslow.
“But why set the cottage ablaze? What possible reason could you have for killing two innocent people?”
“Innocent? Watson was a thief and a traitor,” Mrs Wilmslow scoffed. “Lady Farleigh was a jezebel who seduced my husband. No woman wants to suffer that sort of humiliation.”
Taylor brought Mrs Wilmslow’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. “It doesn’t matter. Once we’ve dealt with this, we’ll be free to leave Abberton for good.”
And with any luck, they were destined for the scaffold at Newgate.
“What are we to do now?” Mrs Wilmslow’s eyes shone with affection for the doctor.
Taylor took hold of the woman’s chin. “We have the book. Now no one can trace the relatives. There’s no proof I took money to falsify documents.”
“And what if someone finds the letter?”
“Without the book, the authorities will struggle to gain evidence. Miss Stoneway is no longer with us. And I doubt th
e aunt would confess to fraud now Mr Watson is dead.”
Had they forgotten she sat there listening to every word?
“And what about me?” Rose prayed that Christian arrived soon. This sorry pair had already killed three people. One more would hardly make a difference. “Am I to suffer the same fate as Miss Stoneway?”
Dr Taylor turned to face her. “Miss Stoneway died of natural causes brought about by her condition, although I must admit I’m rather thankful. I’m afraid your fate lies with that of Lady Farleigh.”
Lord, he really was a cold-hearted blackguard. Mrs Hibbet would forever punish herself for her failure to notice the signs.
Rose steeled herself. “Well, we have a problem on numerous counts.” She glanced briefly at the silver blade in Mrs Wilmslow’s hand. “I think your plan may have a few flaws.”
Taylor snorted. “There is little point trying to bide time. Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to leave.”
“Then I take it your offer of marriage no longer stands.” Rose knew it had been a ploy to gain her trust.
Mrs Wilmslow’s face turned beetroot red. “You asked her to marry you? What about me?”
“It was merely a comment made in passing.”
Rose frowned. “So I’m not the only intelligent woman in Abberton?”
“Playing games will not save you now,” Taylor said, ignoring both her question and Mrs Wilmslow’s angry stare.
“Perhaps not, but I copied every address before I left home this afternoon.”