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“He killed her!” His hands clenched the mantle until his knuckles went white. “I always suspected, but I am almost certain of it now. And I let him get away with it.” His heart thudded hard, and he felt sick. Mrs. Pennyweather’s words haunted him.

“You couldn’t have done anything, Rome,” she said quietly. “She was his wife, and a wife belongs utterly to her husband. She has few rights, virtually no voice under the law, no separate identity apart from him. Everything she has, everything she is, he owns. If she’s lucky, he’s a good man. If she’s unlucky—”

“There’s more Letty,” he interrupted her. “When Mama died, he dismissed all the servants. Did you know that?”

“No. I stayed away from him as much as possible. I’m sorry I left you to deal with it. With him.” She blinked. “You were only twelve. I should have—”

“Do you remember Mama’s personal maid, Ellen Miller?”

“Yes, of course. Was she dismissed, too? That would have hurt—she was devoted to Mama.”

“Yes, no doubt. She died a few months later of influenza. But it seems she knew what happened to Mama that night and took the secret of it to her grave. We will never know for certain now exactly what happened, but I am as certain as I can be that he had a hand in Mama’s death.”

“No! Surely not. I know he was a bad man, but—”

“I stayed away, never went home in the school holidays. I’d stay at the school or go to a friend’s place for the summer rather than go back there. I couldn’t bear being there with him, even when she was still alive. But if I’d gone home that summer—I might have saved her!”

He rubbed his face, smearing the tears of guilt on his cheeks.

“You’re no more to blame than I am,” she said. “I was older Jerome, an adult, you were just a boy.” She sighed. “Their arguments were horrendous.” He blinked at his sister’s bleak face. “I was glad to marry John just to get away. That was why you never saw me much. I couldn’t bear to go home, any more than you could later. I buried myself in my new life and tried to forget it. But I abandoned you. I left you to deal with it. If anyone is to blame for anything, it’s me. I’m sorry, Jerome.” Her voice broke on a sob, and she fumbled for a handkerchief.

He crossed the room and knelt by her chair. “Don’t distress yourself, Letty. I shouldn’t have told you. After all, there isn’t much we can do to rectify it now. Perhaps if I’d asked questions when he died—”

“What could you have done?”

“Tried to find the dismissed servants, find out what really happened.”

“Would it have made any difference?” she asked sadly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“We should have talked about this years ago.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m as much a coward as you are. It’s so unpleasant. I confess I still don’t want to dwell on it.”

“Neither do I,” he said. “And we shall not. Buck up, Letty. It’s not good for the babe for you to be upset.”

She took a breath, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose.

“Yes, they are both gone now and can’t touch us,” she said with a valiant smile.

He wished that were true, but the long shadow of his father’s temper haunted him, for he felt not only guilt for not saving his mother, but the fear that his father’s dark soul had tainted him, too, for Gareth wasn’t the only DeVere to cause the death of an innocent woman.