“According to Peter, that was his original plan,” Tom said. “He’d been gathering objects to pack up, but his mother was a very superstitious woman. She put her foot down, insisted it would bring them bad luck. That’s why she refused to sleep in the master bedroom or wear Evelyn Villiers’s clothes—she felt they were tempting fate.”
“And that’s why she got rid of the photograph albums, I suppose,” Lucy said. “Seeing them reminded her of what they’d done.”
“You’re the one who said it, Kate,” Tom said. “When we still thought it was Evelyn Villiers who died at the May Fair that night, you said, ‘It was almost as if she felt she didn’t deserve to enjoy her wealth.’ Emily Wardle knew she didn’t deserve it, and in the end, her guilt overwhelmed her. Colin admitted his mother was planning to leave for good. When she learned he’d sold the Meissen, she was convinced they’d be found out and decided to save herself. All she had to do was raise enough cash to make her escape.”
“That’s why she refused to use the phone or the mail,” I said. “If Colin found out what she was doing, she knew he’d stop her.”
“And that’s exactly what he did—he stopped her.” Vivian drained her wineglass and slammed it down on the table so hard I thought the stem would snap. “Is he claiming self-defense for his mother’s murder? Diminished capacity? Another accident?” Vivian trained one skeptical eye on Tom.
“Colin’s statement will be compared with the evidence.” Tom said.
“Did he say anything about his mother’s fascination with the legend of the green maiden?” Lucy asked.
“That’s the one topic he would talk about,” Tom said. “Colin said his mother was obsessed with the idea that she was descended from the green maiden through the Grenfels, an old branch of her mother’s family. The photograph over her bed was of her grandmother’s cottage along the Stour—River’s Edge Cottage. Emily Wardle grew up with the legend. She’d memorized the words on the beams of the pub in Dunmow Parva.”
“Mrs. Wright said she was always quoting things in the old tongue,” I added. “When I heard her say wagon bell the day she came in the shop, she was actually quoting the words painted on the beam: The betrayal of the one I love is like a flaming sword in my heart. She loved Colin too much for his good, if that’s possible. He betrayed that love by forcing her to play the part of her rival, Evelyn Villiers—the one role guaranteed to cause her maximum guilt.”
“Colin claimed his mother came up with the idea of pretending to be Evelyn Villiers,” Tom said, “but I think he was lying. I think he forced her into it.”
“When she brought the húnpíng jar into Ivor’s shop,” I said, “her son’s betrayal must have been uppermost in her mind.”
“Why did she cling to that young actress, the one playing the green maiden?” Lady Barbara asked.
“We’ll never know,” Tom said.
I laid down my fork. “I think in her final moments, she saw the girl in the green makeup and focused on her.”
“I understand that.” Lady Barbara wrinkled her brow. “Family legends are powerful. At that moment, everything she’d been brought up to believe would have come back to her.”
“Fatally stabbed, she ran toward the lights on the green,” Tom said. “If she’d gotten medical attention sooner, she might have lived. As it was, she’d lost too much blood.”
We were silent for a moment, reliving the shock of Emily Wardle’s death.
“So was she related to the green maiden?” Vivian asked.
“She believed she was,” Tom said. “That’s what counts.”
“What does Colin say about his mother’s death?” Vivian asked.
“He says he was provoked. The night of the May Fair, he noticed the húnpíng was missing and confronted his mother. He hasn’t admitted it, but we think he roughed her up. The coroner found extensive bruising on her face and body. Colin forced her to show him where she’d taken the jar. Once they were inside the stockroom, Emily must have reached the breaking point. Colin says she grabbed the húnpíng and threatened to smash it on the floor. He tried to get it away from her. They struggled, and Emily was stabbed—accidentally, he claims. The húnpíng flew into the air, and while Colin was trying to save it, she fled.”
“He couldn’t catch her?” Lucy asked.
“He did go after her, but she’d gotten a head start, and with so many people on the green, he realized he’d be spotted.”
“Why didn’t he go back for the húnpíng?”
“He did, but James Liu had gotten there first. The fact that Colin’s mother died before she could tell anyone her name was a stroke of luck for him—in his eyes, another sign of his charmed life.”
“Will Colin be charged with murder?”
“That’s the prosecutor’s decision,” Tom said. “I think we’re building a compelling case.”
“What about Nigel Oakley?” Lady Barbara asked. “I can’t believe that charming man was involved in drugs.”
“We have no evidence Nigel Oakley knew anything, Lady Barbara. He’s cooperating fully with the investigation.”
“Poor man.” Lady Barbara, who knew about errant sons, shook her head.
Francie Jewell carried in a round silver platter. “Treacle tart with a shortbread crust,” she said. “Lady Barbara’s favorite. Clotted cream on the way.”
In time, the full story would be revealed—or as full a story as the prosecutors could put together so long after the facts. The bottom line was, Colin Wardle would spend a very, very long time in prison.
Lucy could finally get on with her life.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Friday, May 28
“It’s Henry Liu I feel sorry for.” Vivian passed me the toast rack. “Have another slice. The honey’s from local bees.”
I looked at my half-full plate. Vivian had gotten up early to prepare eggs with sausage and smoked salmon, topping it off with mountains of whole grain toast. “I couldn’t possibly.”
I was still stuffed from the night before. After dinner and the treacle tart, Vivian and I had waddled back to
