about the conversation. 'I need to know something. Has my Aunt Lillian been intercepting my letters from home?'
Edward's complexion visibly paled. 'No, Lady Victoria, she hasn't.'
She was going to have to accept what he said as fact, she supposed. She nodded, then turned to go up the stairs. She stopped suddenly when Edward blurted out, 'They only have your best interests at heart, mi'lady, especially Lord Elliott.'
She slowly turned around. 'My father's been taking my letters, hasn't he?'
He didn't answer her but turned his gaze to the floor. She thought his silence damning. 'I thought it was my aunt,' she whispered. Her voice sounded bewildered. 'I don't know why, but I never considered my father would do… How long has it been going on?'
'From the beginning,' he answered in a low voice.
'And the letters I wrote to my brothers and left on the hall table to be posted? Did he intercept those too?'
Edward looked into the drawing room to make certain they weren't being overheard, then answered her. 'Yes, but you had already figured everything out, hadn't you? I'm not being disloyal by confirming your suspicions, am I?'
'No, you aren't being disloyal.'
'Your father was only following the physician's advice, mi'lady. He was very happy to notice you'd stopped writing to those men. I heard him tell his brother-in-law that the advice had been sound. You were letting your past go.'
'The physicians advised him?'
'I believe so, Lady Victoria.'
The staff apparently knew more about the workings of the family than she did. She would have to remember to ask Edward her questions in future. She would get the truth from him.
She was too disheartened to continue the conversation. She thanked him once again and then went up to her bedroom.
Her father believed she'd left her past behind her-and her brothers, she thought to herself. Mary Rose hadn't forgotten, of course, and she hadn't quit writing. She'd known someone was intercepting her mail after she'd read Adam's letter asking her why she hadn't written. Thank God for Ann Marie. The sweet lady's maid was quietly making sure her letters were posted.
She was so furious she could barely form a coherent thought. She knew she was going to have to get past her anger before she even tried to talk to her father to find out why he would do such a cruel thing to her. After an hour of pacing and thinking about the situation, she decided not to talk to him at all. He would only tell her he was doing what was best for her, and God help her, if she heard those words just one more time, she thought she would start screaming and never be able to stop.
Her anger wouldn't go away. She begged off going to the theater with the family that evening, giving the excuse she was tired.
A hot bath didn't soothe her nerves. She put on her nightgown and her robe and reached for her locket. She kept the treasure in an ornately carved Oriental box on top of her dresser. She wanted to wear the locket to bed. Perhaps a good night's sleep would put everything back into perspective, and she would once again have enough stamina to be understanding.
The box was empty. Mary Rose didn't panic, at least not right away. She carefully retraced her steps around the room. She remembered she'd taken the necklace off that morning just after she'd gotten out of bed. Yes, she was certain she'd done just that. And she always put it in the little box for safekeeping during the day.
The locket had vanished. An hour later, she was tearing the bedroom apart for the second time. Harrison came home and found her on her knees looking under their bed. He collapsed into the nearest chair, stretched his legs out, and thought that if he didn't get some sleep soon, he would pass out.
His mind was still reeling from the information he'd found damning MacPherson. He felt tremendous anger as well, and now that he was close to tying up all the loose ends and finally going to the authorities, the tension inside him was building to an explosive level. He was as edgy as a caged bear. Lack of sleep was surely the cause, he knew, for he doubted he'd had more than three hours' rest each night for the past week.
MacPherson was never far from Harrison 's thoughts. Rage would wash over him every time he thought about how the bastard calmly worked by Elliott's side all these past years. Elliott had trusted him completely, and all that while, MacPherson had witnessed his anguish and his desolation. The son-of-a-bitch knew…
Harrison forced himself to block his thoughts. He was too agitated to go to bed right away and decided to tell his wife what he'd found out.
She hadn't noticed him yet. 'I found it, sweetheart,' he called out.
She bumped her head when she bolted upright on her knees. 'Where is it? I've looked everywhere. Oh, thank God. I thought I'd lost it.'
Harrison heard the panic in her voice and only then looked at her face. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
'I don't think we're talking about the same thing. I was trying to tell you I found the discrepancy I was looking for. What have you lost?'
'My locket,' she cried out. 'It's disappeared.'
'We'll find it. I'll help you look. Just let me get my second wind.' He let out a loud yawn after giving her his promise.
'What if it was thrown away?'
He closed his eyes and began to rub his brow. 'I'm sure it wasn't. Come and kiss me.'
She couldn't believe his cavalier attitude. 'You know how important my mama's locket is to me. I think they took it. I'll never forgive them if they did. Never.'
His wife was shouting. Harrison straightened in his chair, braced his elbows on his knees, and frowned at her. He was determined not to let his weariness make him impatient.
'After a good night's sleep…'
'We have to find my locket before we go to bed.'
He decided to try to put it all in perspective for her. The locket was important to her, yes, but they would eventually find it.
'Will you calm down? No one took your locket. You've simply misplaced it. That's all there is to it.'
'How would you know if they took it or not? You're never here long enough to know anything that goes on.'
'I've been busy,' he shouted out. 'I was trying to tell you…' He stopped before he went into an explanation about MacPherson. Now wasn't the time. She was too distraught to hear a word he said.
He let out an expletive then. 'You could be a little more understanding,' he said.
She staggered to her feet. She was so furious, her hands were in fists at her sides. The dam inside her burst, for it was suddenly all too much for her to endure. All those months of trying to be someone she wasn't was finally taking its toll.
'Understanding? You expect me to be understanding about their sneakery? My father takes my letters before I can mail them, and I'm supposed to be understanding? How long do you want me to be patient, Harrison? Forever? When you aren't working day and night finishing whatever in God's name you're determined to finish, you're running around looking for evidence to convict MacPherson. You've been scratching the wrong itch for months now. Oh, shame on me. I've used another expression my relatives find distasteful.'
'What are you talking about? What's distasteful?'
She didn't answer him. He wouldn't understand. No one did. She turned her back on her husband and stared out into the night.
'They all love you,' he assured her in a calmer tone of voice.
She whirled around again. 'No, they don't. They love the woman they're all creating. Do you know what Aunt Barbara told me? I'm supposed to think of myself as a blank canvas and let them create their masterpiece. They don't love me. How could they? They don't even know me. They love the idea of having Victoria back, and now everyone's trying to pretend I've lived here all my life. What about you, Harrison? Do you love me or their masterpiece?'
