Page 72 of Cruel Hearts

“Why would she frame Mr. Burgh for something so terrible?”

Mother’s nostrils flared. “Because she’s protecting her precious Thomas.”

My throat dried. “Father Neapolitan?”

“Is that what he’s calling himself these days?” she asked.

“He’s the priest in the chapel within the estate.”

Mother stared at me, her eyes bulging. Dark rings circled her eyes—deeper than when we had last seen her in the waiting room of the police station. Everything about her face was hard. Piercing eyes, sharp cheekbones, tightened lips, and stark disbelief.

I held my breath, waiting for her response.

Her harsh laugh made me jolt. Moments later, rasping breaths turned to wracking sobs, and fat tears poured down her cheeks.

The ache in my chest spread up to the back of my throat, and pressure filled my sinuses. It was true. Everything I had read between the lines of Father Neapolitan’s letters—the rape at the Christmas ball, the subsequent stalking, the gaslighting, and the coverup—it had all happened.

I reached across the table and placed a hand over her balled fist. “Mother, I—”

“How many times did I tell you to drop the subject,” she said between sobs. “You want to know who got me pregnant, it was that sleazy psycho, Thomas Neapolitan.”

My mouth dropped open. “But I thought you were seeing Billy Hancock?”

“At Glasgow weekends and whenever he could travel up.” Mother pulled her hand away from mine and wiped her eyes. “But Thomas was there every day. When he wasn’t following my friends and me around, he was spreading crap about me sleeping with every boy in long trousers.”

“Didn’t you tell Mr. Burgh?”

“There was no point in telling him when he only cared about becoming the next headmaster.” Mother shook her head. “Thomas Neapolitan was untouchable.”

“Why?” I asked.

“He used to tell me he was related to Lord Liddell.” Mother shrugged. “I always thought it was bullshit until the Liddells hushed up his every wrongdoing to avoid a scandal.”

It was hard to listen to her description of being stalked by that two-faced creep. On the surface, he presented himself as a heartbroken suitor, but behind the scenes, he spread rumors and dropped hints to damage mother’s reputation.

Mother shook her head. “I know what happened that night. So did Thomas and Miss Gabbage.”

My brows drew together. “Who’s that?”

“Lady Liddell, the former social-climbing Home Ec teacher. She said I was crying rape because she’d caught me on my knees in front of Thomas.”

“Why did she lie?” I asked.

“It was her big chance to spend time with the headmaster. Until then, he used to laugh and brush off her flirting.” Mother sniffed. “After she helped clear things up, they became inseparable.”

I stared at the surface of the table, trying to make sense of what I had learned. Back then, the archbishop led the school. If he was related to Father Neapolitan, I couldn’t see him wanting the family name to fall into disrepute. “Did you think about getting your revenge after you left prison?”

“Who told you about that?” she snapped.

My shoulders drooped. “Elizabeth Liddell is one of my classmates. She dredged up everything from my past and told the whole school.”

Mother snorted. “I’ll bet the little madam is regretting it now.”

“Why?”

“Because Thomas Neapolitan struck again at our school skiing trip. He’s your fucking father.”

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