So, they’d come to it, finally. Jane’s heart wrenched, and she felt ill as she stepped forward, the room’s gazes locked on her. John’s was the worst—all unbearable confusion, and betrayal. She came to stand beside him, but only to address the room.
‘I should’ve told the truth long ago,’ she croaked, determined not to…sob, merely give answers she’d denied those due them for twenty years. ‘One day, perhaps, you’ll forgive me my silence, and what it has cost you.’
So much death—my fault…
Jane steeled herself, hoping beyond hope that on the other side of this, there might be some peace for them all; though she doubted there would be…
That which I wish for, selfishly. A chance with John.
‘Some of you may know, I worked here, until shortly after Mrs Willcombe’s death,’ she began, alternating her gaze between all family members. ‘My father, Aconite’s gamekeeper, said I left for better opportunities, in truth… I couldn’t bear to remain.’ She shrugged, begging everyone to forgive her. ‘I was twelve. Old enough to know better. It was a stormy day, much like these past. I got too close to the river. Slipped in. I grabbed on to some roots, but couldn’t tear myself from the water. I don’t know how long it was before Mrs Willcombe found me on her way back from the village. Long enough to nearly be ready to let the water take me. She saved my life,’ Jane breathed, tears falling against her will. ‘Dragged me out. And then we walked back to her horse, and she slipped. Hit her head on a rock. I couldn’t wake her.’
The terror, pain, and fear she’d felt, drowning her again, worsening at everyone’s intakes of breath.
Save for John, who hasn’t moved…
‘My father found us, he’d been searching for me for hours. You’re right,’ she told Mrs Hanson. ‘Mr Willcombe had a temper. But he loved his wife, with all he was. As she did him. My father…he feared I’d be blamed. Punished. So he told me to never speak of it. He brought Mrs Willcombe home, saying he’d seen her fall from her horse. And then he sent me away.’
Thick silence invaded the room.
Grief, guilt, and rage filled it; truth tearing all their hearts asunder.
‘I’m sorry… I should’ve had more courage, and told the truth.’
‘My Rosalind saved your life,’ Mrs Hanson breathed, overcome. ‘That is…something.’
‘She was always fond of you,’ Fred said, also at a loss. ‘It’s a consolation to know she died saving a life. That she wasn’t alone. I always hated that idea.’
Jane nodded, her words, her strength, gone.
Relief at having confessed her darkest secret assailed her, yet still it held a bitter edge.
‘You have much to discuss,’ she said finally. ‘I’ll pack my things.’
And so, without even a final glance at John, she scampered, her heart broken in so many ways.
For the best.
***
‘Jane, wait!’ John called after the rapidly shrinking figure, slipping on the muddy road. He was as soaked as she, the rain a steady, drenching mist, but he didn’t care. It had taken him far too long to pursue her, though the delay wasn’t entirely his fault. Yes, he’d been shocked by her revelations—which had made him hurt for her—but even as shock subsided, there’d been much to do.
The magistrate had taken the women away, incomprehensibly satisfied, considering Willcombe was dead for no reason; the women’s lives ruined by pointless vengeance. Fred had promised to speak for them—his name still carried some weight—desperate to avoid the remainder of his family hanging. The guests had been informed of the true murderers’ arrest, but were otherwise no wiser—apart from Mr Hanson. The man had been destroyed, though Dr Merrow promised to look after him. And Fred… Though devastated, he took solace in the revelations, and John knew the past few days would sober Fred permanently.
It was also Fred who insisted John go after Jane, declaring that if love came from the twisted affair, it would be a consolation. He didn’t blame Jane, and was eager to speak to her, once John brought her back.
Because yes, John could deny no longer he loved Jane—had, for some time.
‘Jane!’
Finally, she stopped, turning, her blotchy eyes wide, hair plastered to her face despite the old hat she wore that John guessed was her father’s.
Panting, he stood before her—the most welcome sight.
He hated the pain in her eyes, the doubt he’d birthed by not pursuing sooner, and the sense, as she straightened, that she awaited cruelty which could never come from him.
‘You’ll be seeking new employment,’ he said, cursing himself as he spotted her hurt. He’d only wanted to make her smile again. Idiot. ‘That is… You’re a good investigator,’ he smiled gently, and she softened, doubt slowly melting away. ‘You solved this one.’
‘I helped,’ she said meekly. ‘It was the least I could do. Is Fr— Mr Willcombe very angry?’
‘No, Jane, he isn’t. Though he’s keen to speak to you. Come back—’
‘I’ve no place there anymore.’
‘Not as a maid, certainly,’ John agreed, giving in to his need to touch her, gently caressing her cheek. ‘But difficult as it may be to return, you are welcome. As a guest. Or…my partner.’
‘What?’
Confusion filled those clever eyes, and John smiled.
‘Part of my clumsy proposal… For you to consider becoming my partner, in every way. My life is…turbulent, dangerous, but…full of adventure. And I should like it to be full of love.’
‘You…? But… Your friend, I lied… His mother—’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Jane,’ he told her, hoping in time she might believe. He held her tighter, promising: I will never let go. ‘It was a tragic accident. Your silence didn’t cost Fred’s father his life. Those women…chose the path of vengeance. I’m only sorry you felt you couldn’t share your secret. With me, or another. That you lived with that pain and guilt. But it doesn’t change how I think of you, how I love you. You are clever, kind, strong, beautiful, and stole my heart from the first.’
Tears mingled with rain on her cheeks, hope replacing the doubt, and pain.
‘I love you too,’ she breathed, and John’s heart jigged merrily. ‘A partnership sounds…extraordinary.’
‘Oh good,’ he grinned, before kissing her with all the love he possessed.
It was a thing of passion, healing, and promise.
They remained there a while, until finally, he took her hand, and they began walking back to Aconite House.
‘I don’t think I want to marry you,’ she said, when they were about halfway. He froze, his heart lurching before calming when he glimpsed her wry grin. ‘Pierce & Powell has quite a ring to it. Perfect for a door plaque. Mr and Mrs Pierce…not so much.’
‘If I promise the plaque reads Pierce & Powell, will you marry me?’
‘Perhaps,’ she shrugged, tugging him along.
John grinned, thinking their life together would certainly be an interesting adventure.
No perhaps about that.
_________________________________________________________________
If you loved An All Hallows’ Eve Mystery, be sure to read A Lady on the Edge of Ruin also by Lotte R. James.
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