Page 65 of Winterset

“It was broad daylight, and I took the pony trap. I did not walk,” she protested. “I was perfectly safe.”

“And did you learn anything from him?”

Anna frowned. “Not really. He said that he knew the farmer who was killed, but not much beyond that.”

“I dug through those records,” Reed said. “It took me a day, but I finally found the household expenses for forty-eight years ago.”

Anna brightened. “Did you find the names of the servants?”

“Yes, though I must say, I had the devil of a time figuring out the handwriting. And several of the servants had only their first names written down. But I gave the rest of the names to Norton, and he had his clerk track them down. Out of all the names, he did find one of the maids still alive and living in Eddlesburrow.”

“Really? That’s not too far. An hour’s ride, perhaps.”

“Yes. It is also where the records of the coroner’s inquests are held.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “I had not thought of those.”

“I don’t know how much more we will find in them than was in the doctor’s journals, but there might be something.”

“Of course. We should look at them. I couldn’t go, of course, until Kit is better.”

“No. We will wait. The maid and the records will still be there.” Reed hesitated, then continued, “Anna…I wanted to ask you about your uncle.”

Anna’s eyes flew to his face, and one hand moved unconsciously to press against her stomach, where her nerves were already fluttering. “What?”

“I thought about what you said quite a bit over the last few days. And I realized…Are you worried that it might be your uncle who is doing these things?”

Anna’s heart began to hammer. She stared at Reed, unable to speak.

“No, pray, do not look at me like that,” Reed said quickly, moving closer to her. “I do not mean to suggest that he is. I only thought that you might fear it.”

“I do,” Anna said, and her voice came out barely above a whisper. “Oh, Reed, I do….”

She pressed her lips together tightly, struggling for a moment to overcome her emotions. She had been carrying her fears silently for more than two weeks, and while it hurt to admit what she had been thinking about her uncle, it was a relief, as well. Once she started, the words seemed to come tumbling out of her.

“I cannot think that he would hurt anyone. He is not a violent man, not at all. He is a good man, truly he is. But I cannot help but wonder, because of the marks. I told you that he refuses to cut his nails, and they grow quite long, and Dr. Felton said the marks were spaced wide apart, like a bear’s claw. A man’s fingers would be similarly spaced.”

“Anna!” Reed took her hand between both of his. “Please do not distress yourself so. Those marks do not prove that it was your uncle.”

“I know.” Anna drew a calming breath. “And yet…everyone keeps saying how mad it is that someone would kill people this way. There is no rhyme nor reason. Uncle Charles has reasons for what he does, but they are so bizarre that no normal person would understand them. He is a gentle man—a pitiful figure, really, because he lives in such fear, even though all of it is created in his own mind. But he roams the woods at night. His keeper cannot keep track of him all the time. He has to sleep. And if, for some reason, my uncle thought that those people were the Queen’s assassins—well, it seems ludicrous to us, but to him it is very real, and I am afraid that if he was laboring under a delusion such as that, he could kill them.”

“Have you seen him, talked to him?”

“I have seen him. He seems much the same as ever. He did not mention anything about having had to do away with any enemies, but I’m not sure he would. He is so very secretive, even with Kit and me, or Arthur, his valet.”

“What did his keeper say?”

“He does not believe that Uncle could have done it. But he admits that he does not know where he was on those nights, as he was sleeping. And he is the most loyal of people—I mean, he has been willing to stay with Uncle for all these years, and it is a hard, thankless task. No one would do it just for the salary. He truly loves my uncle and has looked after him since he was a boy. For that reason, however, I don’t know how much I can rely on his opinion. He is not at all objective.”

“What about tonight? Would he have hurt your brother? Does he—would he not recognize Sir Christopher?”

“Surely he would not harm Kit! He is not mad in that way. He knows who we are. And he seems still to have some fondness for us, though it is largely overwhelmed by his fears and delusions. He has never accused one of us—Kit or me or Arthur—of trying to harm him. But he did—well, before he left Winterset, there was a certain turnover of staff because he would decide one of them was watching him or wanted to harm him or had stolen something. I cannot be sure but what he might come to decide that one of us is somehow trying to harm him. Oh, Reed, if it is he who is doing these things, then I am responsible for leaving him free!”

Tears glittered in her eyes, and impulsively Reed put his arm around her, pulling her against him. He bent and pressed his lips to her hair. “Shh. Sweet girl, do not cry. I promise you, you are not at fault.”

Anna leaned against him, letting herself depend on Reed for another brief moment. She could not continue to be weak, as she had been tonight, she knew. But just for a little while, surely it would not cause any harm….

With a sigh, she stepped away from him, wiping the tears from her face. “I am sorry. I seem to be a veritable watering pot tonight.”