Chapter Nine
After the inspector left, Jocelyn sat on the sofa in front of the fire, staring sightlessly into the flames as she struggled to come to grips with her new reality. All she had left was Oliver. Everyone else she’d ever loved, her entire family, was gone now. The thought of not having her sister to talk to, to laugh and cry with, was staggering.
She felt very alone in the world.
Thank goodness Sebastian had been the one to break the news to her. She’d never thought of herself as someone who would nearly pass out with grief, but she had been crippled with sadness and wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to see her that way.
Why had it felt so natural to let herself sob in his arms? She’d never been that intimate with anyone, certainly not her husband. He had never once touched her unless it was to fumble under her nightgown and rut between her legs for a few minutes.
She grimaced at the thought, shaking it away.
There were things she’d need to do tomorrow. She’d have to make arrangements for a funeral, tell Abbie...
Perhaps she should go upstairs right now and wake Abbie; she certainly had a right to know. But the thought of actually saying the words crippled her. She needed a little more time to come to terms with it herself before she could even think of telling someone else.
She suddenly wished she hadn’t gone looking for Evelyn yesterday. If she hadn’t, her sister certainly wouldn’t have been found yet, and she’d have had another night of blissful ignorance.
Tears welled in her eyes once again, and she doubled over, curling into a ball on the sofa and pulling the blanket over her. She didn’t know how long she cried, but a gentle hand on her shoulder made her gasp and scramble to a sitting position again, blinking up at Abbie, who stood beside her in her nightclothes, wringing her hands with tears streaking down her face as well.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. I know I shouldn’t have come into your room, but I knocked, and you didn’t answer, and I heard you crying...”
Jocelyn wiped her nose inelegantly with the back of her hand, wishing for a handkerchief. “It’s all right, Abbie,” she managed. “Thank you for checking on me.”
Abbie bit her lip. “Winston said the inspector had come, and I knew he was looking for Evelyn, so I thought I’d come ask if she... she... Is she all right?” The look on Abbie’s face said she already knew the answer to that, but Jocelyn forced herself to say it anyway.
“No, she’s n-not all right, Abbie. She’s been... m-murdered.” The last word came out as more of a wail, and Jocelyn still couldn’t believe she was saying such a thing about her dear, sweet sister.
Abbie gasped, then went white as a ghost as she sank down on the sofa beside Jocelyn. “Murdered? How can she possibly have been murdered? Not Evelyn.”
Jocelyn shook her head, wishing she’d asked Sebastian more questions. But perhaps she really didn’t want to know the answers. Not yet, anyway.
She didn’t know Abbie well, not like Evelyn had, but she knew the two women had a special connection and that Abbie was probably grieving nearly as much as she was. So she pulled the other girl tightly against her, and they held each other and cried for Evelyn until they both fell into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
BY THE TIME SEBASTIAN returned to Scotland Yard, Evelyn’s body had already been brought in, and Dr. Chancy Lockwood was performing his autopsy. Blackstone was in his office, waiting for the doctor’s report, and Sebastian wasn’t surprised to find his old friend O’Brien had been summoned as well. Although O’Brien had retired after the horrible injury he’d suffered going after The Viper a few months ago, he still consulted with them from time to time.
“Ness,” O’Brien greeted him tersely. “I wish we were meeting under different circumstances.”
“So do I,” Sebastian replied, sinking into the only unoccupied chair. “It’s a terrible thing.”
“How did Lady Aston take the news?” Blackstone asked, his dark eyes weary.
“About as well as you might expect,” Sebastian said, trying to banish the thought of holding her while she cried. “She’s devastated.”
“Lady Evelyn was a fine lady.” O’Brien shook his head. “All my theories about who The Viper is have been crushed by this. It makes no sense that he’d go after a lady.”
“I don’t understand it either,” Sebastian said. “Why would he accuse Lady Evelyn of being a whore like the others? By all accounts, she was a spinster who’d never been with a man.”
O’Brien frowned. “Perhaps she rejected him? There seems to be some indication that the others The Viper killed had rejected him in some way.”
Blackstone cleared his throat and shot to his feet, seeming a bit agitated. “Who would she have rejected? As a spinster, I’m sure she’d have welcomed a proposal from just about anyone.”
Sebastian frowned. “It is possible hearsay and maybe even idle gossip with no basis in fact, but the victim confided in one of her friends that she had an unwelcome and persistent suitor and was determined to call him off that very night.”
“This is a lady we’re talking about,” O’Brien protested. “A lady I personally knew. She would never have gone to meet someone by herself.”
“Does the suitor have a name yet?” Blackstone asked Sebastian hurriedly.