“It must have been his imagination. I’ve heard that as people get older, they have fancies such as that. They imagine things that aren’t true,” Audrey told the older woman.
Marguerite looked back at the door as if watching to see if someone else, someone unseen, might be there listening to them. “Audrey, I’ve heard other people say such things,” she whispered.
“What things?” Audrey asked, eyes wide.
“That things aren’t what they appear.”
Audrey shivered. “What things?”
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t say anything.”
Audrey moved to sit beside Marguerite on her bed. “Marguerite, if there’s something not right, you should tell me. I can look into it.”
“No. I’m repeating things I’ve heard. Nothing I know of is fact.” Marguerite shook her head.
Audrey paused. “Has whatever you have heard… has it been happening for while?” Marguerite looked away. “Marguerite, you can’t say rash things then. I don’t want you to get in trouble by telling stories.”
“They aren’t stories!” she said firmly.
Audrey looked down at the old woman’s hands. “I think you’re tired.
I think you should rest. This has been difficult for you. You lost a friend. I’m sorry for it.”
“He was a dear man. What did he do that they targeted him?” Marguerite wondered.
Audrey touched her back. “Do you need anything before I go?” Marguerite shook her head. “Then I’ll say good night.”
She stood up to go, but Marguerite grabbed her hand. “They aren’t what they seem.”
Audrey frowned. “Who isn’t?”
“They seem like one thing, but they’re another.”
“Who are you speaking of? Staff? Inmates?”
Marguerite looked over Audrey’s shoulder and then back to her face. “I’m going to rest now.”
A sense of unease settled over Audrey. “Good night.”
Chapter Fifteen
Audrey left Marguerite and walked down the long hallway, back to the cottage. She felt sorry for the old woman. She had lived many years on this earth, and while she had lived an exciting life, she was now inside a workhouse. Though her life was not as hard as some, she was still not all there in her mind, and to think that Alistair had been killed was ridiculous.
There was no reason a harmless old man would be killed. Marguerite must be saddened by the loss so she was trying to unreasonably justify it. Audrey sighed. Nothing seemed to be going well with the people she cared for. She walked along the path and came upon Levi and Joseph playing cards.
“How goes your evening, countess?” Joseph asked Audrey. He had taken to calling her that as both men agreed she was too educated and lovely to be inside the workhouse.
“Who’s winning?” she asked.
“You don’t need to ask,” Levi said sullenly.
Audrey sighed. “I’m afraid my evening isn’t going so well. I just spoke to Marguerite. Her friend Alistair Hillby died.”
Joseph blinked in surprise. “Old Hillby died?”
“You knew him?” Audrey wondered.
“Sure. He was a lifer. Like Marguerite.”