‘It’s for the best.’ Mrs Jones’s voice rasped.
Clearly, she believed in what she was saying, but her family was not convinced. And neither was Serena.
In fact—
‘Were you involved in him being sent to the asylum?’
Mrs Jones jerked up straight, as though she’d been poked in the rib cage. ‘Why would you ask such a thing?’
Serena shrugged, but narrowed her eyes. ‘It seems fortuitous for you, that soon after you had Edward’s signature handing over control, the magistrate learnt of his illness.’
‘What you are suggesting is preposterous.’ But she looked as guilty as a child whose face is smeared with the very crumbs of the cake they denied eating. She glanced around at each member of her family, then pointed at Serena. ‘It is this chit who was set to ruin Edward, not I.’
‘Me?’ Serena was livid. Mrs Jones thought to divert the attention from herself. But she had acted subversively the whole time while making out she empathised with Serena’s situation. ‘You’ve deceived me, led me to believe that Edward is a libertine. That he has made advances on several young women. But nothing in his journal indicates any other woman in his life beyond a brief acquaintance. And further, according to his words, you have tried to convince him that I am no more than a fortune hunter, in league with my father of course.’
The disappointment in Mr Jones face deepened. ‘Is this true, Elizabeth?’
‘I am not convinced she cares for him.’ Mrs Jones pressed her lips together, avoiding her husband’s gaze.
‘It should be enough that he cares for her,’ Mr Xavier said. ‘That was enough for me to stand down.’
Serena turned to face him and saw colour flood into his cheeks. So, she had been right. He had been interested in her at first.
‘I apologise if that embarrasses you, Miss Bellingham.’ He inclined his head towards her.
Serena nodded in turn, unable to express her thoughts while her emotions jumbled and churned so much. She looked at Mrs Jones. ‘I would still like to know if you were involved in Mr King’s admittance to the asylum.’
‘Yes. Answer her, Mother,’ Mr Simon stepped closer to her, so he loomed over her.
‘Yes, do, please enlighten us further,’ Mr Jones agreed, his body stiff.
Mr Xavier put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Did you have a hand in it, Mother?’
Mrs Jones drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she gave a light shrug. ‘I did perhaps send a message to Mr Moncrief.’
Moncrief! Again.
The wheels were turning in Serena’s head as pieces of information connected in her mind. ‘Caleb Moncrief? Let’s talk about him for a moment.’
31
‘What is there to say?’
Why Mrs Jones persisted in feigning innocence, Serena did not understand.
‘Edward and Mr Moncrief were friends once. What happened?’
‘Moncrief turned on him when he discovered Uncle Ed was sick.’ Mr Simon was on the defensive once again.
Serena eyed Mrs Jones, who had dropped her gaze to her lap. ‘Are you certain that’s what happened?’
‘What else could have happened?’ Mr Xavier seemed perplexed. Mr Jones shook his head and turned back to the hearth.
‘From Edward’s journal, I take it they were close before his illness.’ Serena addressed Mr Xavier and Mr Simon, although she kept her eyes on Mrs Jones to watch her responses.
Mr Xavier shrugged. ‘Those two used to cut up quite a lark. Out all hours of the night, haring around the countryside. They were rather inseparable, to be honest.’
‘Yes, Moncrief was here almost daily. But he turned sour so quickly.’ His brows knitted together. ‘I can’t remember precisely why.’
Mrs Jones remained motionless, apart from kneading her fingers.
‘I have an inkling,’ Serena said. ‘I wonder if you, Mrs Jones, poisoned his mind against Edward, much as you tried to do with me.’
The woman’s head shot up. ‘What possible reason would I have for doing that?’
‘I’m not sure, but I’ll wager you have one.’
‘Are you going to allow this impertinent miss to continue accusing me?’ Mrs Jones addressed her husband’s back.
Mr Jones did not move from where he leaned against the mantel, but Serena continued.
‘Never mind. I shall find out the truth from Mr Moncrief myself.’
Serena turned to leave, but not before she recognised the drain of colour from Mrs Jones’s face. Mr Moncrief’s version of events would be rather intriguing, she had no doubt. As she turned to pull the big door closed behind her, a hand reached out to hold it open.
‘Miss Bellingham.’ Mr Xavier halted her. ‘Please forgive us. This admission of Mother’s is rather a shock to us. We never realised ...’ he swallowed. ‘This will take time for us to comprehend.’
Serena offered him a compassionate smile. ‘I don’t blame you, Mr Xavier. Your mother’s secret ambitions are at fault here. I do hope you can make peace with her. And I hope Edward will also when we get him out of that asylum.’
‘How shall we accomplish that? You heard what Father said.’
‘I did, but there must be a way. Why don’t we start with petitioning the Magistrate? While I meet Mr Moncrief, why don’t you write a letter, defending your uncle’s character?’
Mr Xavier swallowed and nodded. ‘All right. I will.’
With that they parted ways, and almost an hour later, Serena burst into her home and sought her father.
‘Papa! I need your help. I must go and speak with a gentleman at the newspaper office. The same one as Julianne gave my story to. Will you come with me?’
Her father looked alarmed on seeing Serena’s animated expression.
‘What has happened, pet?’ He asked as he rose slowly from his chair.
‘Mr King has been taken to Bedlam Point.’
‘What?’
‘It is a long story, but I promise to tell you on the way. Will you come?’
‘Of course, my dear. But we must hail a cab. I fear my knees are too swollen to walk far.’
Papa gathered his coat and they were soon on their way, heads close together as they rode, while
