CHAPTER NINETEEN

"You're leaving us so soon?" Oliver exclaims. "You've just got here!"

Alistair gives him a smile that contains more than a hint of sadness. "Yes. I'm afraid duty calls."

Sebastian and Veronica both appear shocked at this. "Duty?" Sebastian exclaims. "I thought… well…"

"No need to be coy, cousin," Alistair says. "You thought I drifted to your door because my latest venture left me as penniless as the last. Well, you're right. I'm afraid I have naught but the clothes on my back and the money I used to buy my plane ticket back to Japan. But I have some goodwill remaining with my former investors, and I'm armed with a plan—a real one this time. I feel confident about it. And anyway, it's high time I spread my own wings and flew."

Sebastian looks utterly flummoxed for the first time in my memory. "You… Is everything all right?"

Alistair laughs. "Everything is wonderful, cousin. I just… want to grow up is all."

"How do you plan to do that with no money to live on?" Veronica challenges.

"I will be happy to share all the details with you later," he says. "I don't wish to spoil your dinner by discussing my financial woes, nor do I wish to bore you all with my very mundane plan to rescue myself from them. I wish to enjoy a merry meal with my lovely cousins and then hear them wish me success as I venture into the future!"

"We shall miss you, cousin," Eliza says. There's a touch of relief in her expression, though, and I'm not sure if she means it.

"And I will miss all of you," he says. "But think of it this way. I won't be around to annoy you with my affection, and your husband won't have to be jealous of my rakish good looks and superior wit."

Eliza rolls her eyes and says, "I'm sure he'll be quite thrilled." At the same time, she tenses and casts a nervous look at her mother.

Veronica purses her lips, but I can't tell if it's jealousy that prompts her reaction, or concern for Eliza. My experience with her suggests that she cares little for her older children, but after all I've only been here a week. Perhaps I'm wrong.

In any case, it's clear Alistair refers to Rupert. It's been clear since the first I saw them together that Rupert is attracted to Eliza. I assumed at that time that Eliza couldn't possibly feel the same way about him. Now, I suspect she might.

Could she have been involved in Minnie's death too?

Lucas looks genuinely upset about his cousin's departure, and my heart goes out to him. I think that Alistair's arrival is the closest he's come to feeling truly free.

Alistair notices his expression and says, "No tears from you, little cousin. It's only for a little while. When I have established myself, I'll fly all of you out to Japan and show you how we party in Asia. In the meantime, you made a promise to me to devote yourself to your studies. I will expect that when we see each other again, you will tell me all about the scholarship you've earned."

Lucas smiles at him, his eyes moist. "I will."

"Good. Mary?"

I turn to him. "Yes?"

"Be good to my cousin, please. Teach him well and protect him as much as possible."

"I… of course, yes."

Veronica and Sebastian look between us, their brows furrowed. I feel heat climb my cheeks at the same time as a chill runs down my spine. I would have much preferred it had Alistair shared this missive in private.

"What does that mean?" Veronica asks. "Protect him from what?"

"From stodgy instruction and rote memorization, of course," he says. "You know how I feel about education in Britain." He grins and winks at me. "Mary is wise enough to allow his mind to develop rather than cram it in a box."

"Quite so," I say. "He'll be in good hands."

Veronica gives me a suspicious look, and I shrug a little, as though to indicate that I don't understand him either.

She sighs and gives Alistair a slightly exasperated smile. "Well, I wish you well. And don't hesitate to call us if you need help. I admire your choice to try to stand on your own two feet, but don't feel you need to stand or fall. We love you."

"I promise you," he replies, "should I stand at the edge of a precipice, I will grasp whatever rope is extended to me."

His phone rings, and he says, "Ah. That's my ride, I believe."

"You're leaving this minute?" Oliver exclaims. "In the middle of dinner?"

"Time and opportunity wait for no man," Alistair says, "least of all me." He stands and walks to each of us in turn, planting a kiss on each of our cheeks. "I love you all! When next I see you, I shall be shogun!"

He heads to the door, and just as suddenly as he arrives, he is gone.

The rest of us sit in silence for a moment, discombobulated at his abrupt departure.

"Well, that's odd," Veronica finally says. "What on Earth could have inspired him to leave us so abruptly?"

Sebastian shrugs. "Perhaps he means what he says. I've always told you he won't live like this forever. Sooner or later, he'll want to be a man and stop living on my coattails."

"Father!" Eliza exclaims.

"What? It's a compliment! I approve of his choices, and I always knew he'd shape up. What's wrong with that?"

The others continue to debate the legitimacy of Alistair's choice to reform. At the moment, I suspect that Rupert Chalmers might be more closely involved with Minnie's death than Alistair, but I can't help but wonder if Alistair is fleeing because he is, after all, her killer. He knows I'm close, and perhaps he only distracted me long enough to make his escape.

I hope he isn't the killer. I rather liked him for all his immaturity. I would like to believe he is simply what he seems to be, a no-longer-young man who realizes he's wasted his life and wants to seize one last opportunity to make something of himself.

And if he is the killer, then he may already have made his escape, and the opportunity for justice may have vanished as completely as Minnie has.

***

I don't take the melatonin Dr. Chalmers prescribes me. Part of the reason is that I don't entirely trust him, and part of it is that I wish to have an excuse to see him again in the morning. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I will have the weekend off. According to the hours posted on the front of his clinic, Dr. Chalmers takes Sundays and Mondays off, so he should be in the office tomorrow. Eliza will be there too, unfortunately, but I hope I can figure out a way to get a chance to talk to him alone.

Without the sleep aid, restlessness takes me again. I don't wish to snoop around the house after my uncomfortable experience in the attic. I doubt I'll find anything helpful in one of the few unused rooms in the manor, so there's no reason for me to wander and possibly alert the house.

I decide to make myself some chamomile tea, so I head quietly to the kitchen and prepare a kettle. I stop it just before it boils and steep the tea, then carry the cup and saucer to the tearoom. I will miss this house when I leave. It's not the vast cavern the Ashford estate is, but it's large enough to be stately and laid out in an orderly and sensible fashion. Were I wealthy enough to afford a home like this, I could see myself retiring here. Oh well. I'll find a nice cottage somewhere that will do instead.

I reach the tearoom to find Oliver awake. It seems I'm not the only restless one.

"Oh," I say. "I'm sorry. I didn't expect anyone else to be awake."

He smiles at me. "It's fine. I should be asleep, but tonight is hard for me."

"Why tonight?"

His smile becomes wistful, and he looks out the window. "This would be my second anniversary with Minnie."

I take the seat across from him. I'm fairly confident I'm on the right track with Dr. Chalmers, but if this is a chance to glean some new information, then I should take it. "You cared deeply for her, didn't you?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Sometimes I think she's only the first girl I ever sh—" He looks at me and blushes. "Ever loved. Other times…" He shrugs again. "Mum and Dad say that I was only a boy and that I'll grow up and find someone better. I'm sure they're right, but…" He taps his finger on his knee and falls silent.

"The first love is always the loveliest to feel and the hardest to lose."

He nods. "Has anyone told you what happened before she disappeared?"

"I've heard some rumors," I say carefully. "I'm not sure I believe any of them."

He nods again. "Well, you shouldn't. Minnie wasn't kidnapped. She's perfectly fine."

I am too stunned to answer for a moment. He notices my shock and smiles sadly. "I haven't told anyone. I trust you won't either."

"No," I say, "of course not. But… you're sure?"

"Certain. I saw her leave myself."

Once more, I am too shocked to respond. He looks out the window and says, "The last night she was here, she and I talked. We had fought so much since I learned she was… well, I suppose you might as well know. She was pregnant."

I feign shock at the news. "Goodness!"

"Yes, well, that wasn't my initial reaction. The baby wasn't mine, of course. I'll spare you the gory details, but I knew it wasn't mine."

"Yes, I… I think I understand."

"So, anyway, we had fought, but I was too tired to fight anymore. I didn't love her anymore, but… I think maybe a part of me still did. I don't know. Anyway, we talked on the porch, and she told me she was going to run away. Her parents were furious with her, my family hated her, including me and my sister, and the baby's father evidently wanted her to get rid of the baby. She said she couldn't handle being hated by everyone who had once loved her, so she was going to take the money she'd saved and make a new life for herself somewhere else. She was going to cut her hair, wear glasses instead of contacts, and work on changing her accent. She told me she wanted to tell me because she really did love me, and she was really sorry that things ended between us the way they did."

"My word," I say, head reeling. Could Minnie's murder not have been a murder after all?

"So, we went to the pub and had a drink. Well, I had a drink. Several drinks, actually. Minnie didn't, of course, due to her condition."

He sighed. "It was good. I felt like I did before everything, back when we were just friends and life wasn't so complicated. Then I left her waiting for a cab. And…" He lifts his hands and lets them drop. "That's how it ended. She was gone. I wish her well."

I sip some of my chamomile. It's still too hot, and the liquid burns my throat. I focus on that pain in an attempt to center my thoughts.

Eliza lied to me. She said that she and Minnie fought and that she let Minnie storm off alone instead of walking home with her. Why would she lie to me? Unless she thought Oliver was the killer?

I turn back to Oliver to see him smiling sadly at me. His grief certainly seems real, but plenty of killers are genuinely remorseful.

This is all too much. Too many people could have killed Minnie. Niall, Rupert, Eliza, Alistair, and now Oliver. Or she could simply have done what Oliver says. Honestly, his story makes sense. Many young women in her situation have done the same.

But it's too much. My head aches trying to think which of the many stories I've heard and pieced together myself might be true. If only I could let this go.

"It's a lot to take in, I know," he says. "I'm sorry I told you. You're here to teach Lucas, not to listen to the heartsickness of a young and still foolish man. I just… had to tell someone. Don't tell my parents, will you? If they know that I allowed this family to suffer scandal to protect a promiscuous girl, they'll be furious with me."

"I won't tell them," I say.

I have no idea what I'll tell anyone, or if I'll even have anything to tell anymore. But it's simpler to just agree.

He nods and stands. "Thank you, Mary. And thank you for listening." He looks out the window, a wistful expression in his eyes again. "Wherever she is, I do hope she's happy."

He leaves me alone to wonder what I should do.

I sigh. I'm too tired for this. Perhaps it was a mistake to get involved at all. The situation is so complicated that I can't be sure if anything I'm doing is going to help avenge an innocent girl or merely embroil an innocent family in yet another scandal.

I should focus on Lucas. I've neglected the poor young man. Perhaps it's time to stop being a detective and start being a governess like I intended. Tragedy strikes daily, and Niall is right. I can't pick and choose which tragedy inspires me to crusade. Leave that to others with more fortitude and intellect than I.

I head upstairs. I don't need the tea to exhaust me anymore. Tomorrow, I will once more be Mary Wilcox, governess. And may Minnie Montclair rest in peace, whether she does so alive or passed on.