Penelope followed. "I really didn't think the plan would work, but it has. I did think it might be Fiona — she was at all the places where things were taken, after all." She fixed her spectacled gaze on Amelia's face. "Do we have any idea why she did it?"
Amelia had no idea where to start in the task of putting these two in their place. She wasn't even sure it was possible. Nevertheless, she drew a deep breath. "I bear a message from your mama — you're to stay in your beds."
Both girls looked at her as if she'd run mad.
"What?" Portia said. "While all this is going on—"
"You expect us meekly to close our eyes and fall asleep?"
One breath wasn't going to be enough. "No, but—"
Amelia broke off, raised her head. Listened.
Portia and Penelope did, too. An instant later, they all heard it again — a muffled scream. They rushed to the window.
"Can you see…?" Amelia asked.
They all scanned the gardens, even darker now; the moon was rapidly waning.
"There!" Penelope pointed across the lawn to where two struggling figures were just discernible on the path beside the rose garden.
"Who…?" Amelia asked, but the clenching of her heart told her.
"Well, if Fiona's downstairs," Portia said, "then that must be Anne."
"The fool!" Penelope said. "How senseless."
Amelia didn't stop to argue; she was already out of the door.
"No — just think," Portia said. "That man must be part of the syndicate—
Amelia left them to their deductions — they were better at it than her — and with luck it would keep them where they were, arguing, well out of harm's way. She plunged down the main stairs, screaming for Luc, knowing she dared not stop to explain.
As far as she'd been able to see, the man — whoever he was — had his hands around Anne's throat.
"Luc!" She hit the front hall at a run, skidded on the tiles as she turned and flung herself down the east corridor. Via the garden hall was the fastest route to Anne — she took it without thinking.
She burst onto the lawn, much closer to the struggling pair — still struggling, thank God! As she pounded on, she realized, and called, "Anne! Anne!"
The larger figure stilled, then the configuration rearranged itself — then with a curse she heard, the man flung Anne aside and raced for the wood.
She was gasping when she reached Anne; at least the blackguard had flung her onto the lawn, not into the stone wall. Anne was coughing, gasping, struggling to sit up. Amelia helped her to sit. "Who was it? Do you know?"
Anne shook her head. "But—" She wheezed, then tried gamely again, "I think he was among the guests last night." She hauled in another breath. "He thought I was Fiona." Her fingers clutched Amelia's. "If you hadn't called… he was trying to kill me — her. As soon as he looked and realized I wasn't her…"
Amelia patted her shoulder. "Stay here." She looked at the darkness, of the wood. She had to make an immediate decision. Had Fiona taken the necklace and passed it on before being caught? She didn't know. Nor did Anne. "When Luc comes, tell him I've followed the man — I'm not going to tackle him, just keep him in sight until Luc and the others reach us."
Freeing her fingers from Anne's, Amelia rose and ran on. The path led straight into the wood; the trees closed around her, enclosing her in gloom. She hurried on, no longer running but moving fast, her slipper-shod feet padding all but silently on the leaf-strewn paths. She knew these woods, not as well as Luc did, but better than anyone who'd only recently come to the area possibly could.
There were only so many ways the man could go; it was easy to guess he'd veer to the east, putting as much distance between himself and the Chase as he could. She doubted he'd keep running — crashing along the narrow tracks would invite pursuit — so with luck…
Ten minutes into the wood, her decision bore fruit. She caught a glimpse of a large shadowy figure through the trees ahead. A minute later, she saw him clearly.
He was walking, striding along, quickly but without panic.
Silent and determined, she settled to track him.
Astonished, Anne watched Amelia disappear into the wood, her throat too raw to voice any protest. As soon as she'd caught her breath, she struggled to her feet and limped back to the house.