I slid forward another six inches. Broken brick from the parapet crunched under my shoe and I froze.
‘And so you stabbed him.’ That was James, forcing him to look to the other side.
‘I don’t know how it happened.’ For a second his voice wavered, childlike. ‘I was angry and then the sword was in my hand and he told me to stop playacting! And then he fell down and he said, You’ve killed me. He groaned. And I saw that I had.’
‘Then what did you do?’ Luc kept his voice calm. Alexander, thankfully, had the sense to stay quiet. I glanced down at my feet, saw the leads were clear and inched forward again. Arabella’s eyes were huge, catching the last glimmers of light from the setting sun.
‘I went back, over the gate, the way I came in. I had thrown my cloak over, so my clothes were all right.’ Eerily, he had calmed down again. ‘I wiped the sword on some sacking I found in the mews, then I walked to the Palace and I thought about you, Uncle Alexander, and your endless nagging and I thought how I could make you stop.’
Alexander made a strangled sound and Jerald shifted again. ‘So I wrote that note and off you went like his lapdog. I thought I’d give you a nasty shock but it was even better – they thought you might have done it.’
‘You tried to make us think Madame Vaillant was guilty,’ Luc said. ‘You could have had her hanged.’
I was almost there.
‘She was a greedy whore.’
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Luc move, then James, both of them, I guessed, trying to keep Jerald’s attention away from me. I crooked my fingers and Arabella reached out until our fingertips touched. One more step and I had her fingers locked tight with mine. As Luc saw us make contact he produced a knife from his sleeve, swept it in front of him and J
erald shifted round to follow the glint of the blade reflecting the dying light.
As he moved I pulled hard, reeling Arabella in towards me. It jerked Jerald off-balance and swung him round, but he did not let go of her. Now it was a tug of war with Arabella as the rope. He was stronger than me and she was too panicked to help. As he backed away I was dragged too – and then he was on the parapet, leaning back to pull her in.
‘Let go,’ I yelled. ‘You’ll both go over.’ A whole brick fell away beneath his heel. There was a distant thud.
‘We will be together! Always.’
Arabella was screaming now. He had her close enough to grab with his other hand. My feet slid over the lead as I was dragged towards the edge.
Then someone fell on me, wrapped his arms around me and heaved. Luc, I realised as another figure dived for Arabella, caught her around the waist and bore her to the ground, breaking Jerald’s hold on her wrist.
He flailed his arms, but he was beyond the point of recovery now. The silence after he vanished seemed to last for minutes, then there was a sickening thump.
Alexander was on his knees, his hands over his face. James sat up, pulled Arabella into his embrace as though she was a crying child and rocked her gently back and forth, crooning to her.
Luc rolled off me. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘No. Oh. Yes, my wrist a little. I think I have sprained it. Nothing worse. You?’
We clung together, talking calmly, shaking with reaction, until there was the sound of cries and raised voices from below. Luc took my face between his palms and kissed me. ‘I love you,’ he said fiercely. ‘Always.’
‘I know.’ I said. And then I let myself cry.
* * *
It was past midnight before we returned to Rook’s Acre. Lady Radcliffe was sitting up waiting for us. ‘You are injured.’ She was on her feet, hastening over at the sight of James’s bandaged hands, my strapped-up wrist.
‘It is nothing,’ Luc said. ‘Scraped palms, a sprain. Jerald is dead. The magistrate and Constable and Coroner are at the Hall. He had admitted it all in front of Alexander, and Arabella could not stop talking until the doctor managed to get some laudanum into her. And Lord Tillingham – Doctor Prescott – has died. He heard the tumult on the terrace and somehow got himself down the stairs and outside. He had some kind of seizure when he saw the body and there was nothing anyone could do.’
‘The poor man,’ Lady Radcliffe lamented. ‘Is there any help we can give?’
‘Not now,’ Luc said wearily. ‘Tomorrow we can go and offer our support, but now I suggest we all go to bed – and at least try to sleep. It is going to be another very long day.’
* * *
‘Shall we go direct to Whitebeams when the inquest is over?’ Lady Radcliffe looked more weary than I had ever seen her. ‘I feel the need for our own walls, our own grounds and some peace.’
‘I agree.’ Luc surveyed the party seated – or perhaps slumped, would be the better word – around the dinner table the next evening. We had done our best to help the confused, doubly-bereaved Prescotts, but it would be a long time before Horace’s family would be able to come to terms with what Jerald had done. ‘James?’