CHAPTER 32
Amy gazed down and once again marveled at the tiny puppies nestling close to Persephone. Four little bodies snuggled up to their mum. Seeing her beloved dog act like a mama brought tears to Amy’s eyes.
And a sense of longing to her breast. Perhaps she wasn’t quite so adamant about never marrying. She could have a child or two. And, married to the right man, she could still do her writing.
The right man? Hadn’t he already presented himself?
It had been almost a week since Patrick Whitney had admitted to killing Mr. Harding and Mrs. Whitney had shocked them all by stating that she’d killed Mrs. Johnson. As well as her husband, whom she’d said she had poisoned with arsenic.
The last Amy had heard, Patrick Whitney was recovering in hospital, under arrest, and Mrs. Whitney was behind bars. The best part, of course, was that William was freed of all charges. Since the detectives had released his files to him, he had spent most of his time working with his barrister, solicitor, and man of business to get his finances straightened out.
She’d seen very little of him.
On the way back from the Johnson home the day the killers were arrested, she’d told William that Mrs. Burrows had admitted that she and Miss Gertrude had been kidnapped and sold to a brothel in London many years before. When the place burned down, they’d both escaped and moved to Bath, where Miss Penelope was already living, distraught at her sister’s disappearance but unable to get the police to listen to her.
Mrs. Burrows had found a good man to marry, and the two women had decided to go their separate ways, putting the horrible experience behind them.
Until Harding had uncovered their disgrace and used it for nefarious purposes.
After much consideration and musing, Amy and William had decided that since Mrs. Johnson had worked at the King’s Garden, where Harding met with his victims, she must have been the one to tell Patrick about the journal, which then began his search for it, first by breaking into Harding’s home and then by entering Amy’s and William’s houses. Although in those two cases, he had most likely used his acting abilities to gain access to their homes.
But tonight was Lady Wethington’s dinner party. With all the goings-on, she’d had to postpone it for a week. Amy was looking forward to the event—if for no other reason than to get the sense of a normal life returning to her. She was happy to be free of investigations. The only way she planned to consider suspects and killers in the future was in writing her next book.
“Are you ready?” Aunt Margaret entered Amy’s bedchamber after a slight knock.
“Yes, almost.” Amy still gazed down at the puppies.
“My goodness, every time I come into this room, you are fussing with those puppies.” Aunt Margaret bent over the box. “They are cute little things, aren’t they?”
“Mm-hmm.” Amy kept running her finger over their soft fur.
“I think perhaps you are feeling the lack of something in your life, Amy.” Aunt Margaret straightened and reached out her hand. “However, it is time for us to leave for Lady Wethington’s dinner party.”
Amy accepted her aunt’s hand and climbed to her feet. She turned and blew a kiss at the box. “Sleep well, little family.”
When they arrived at the entrance hall, Stevens was helping Papa and Michael into their greatcoats. He performed the same service for Amy and Aunt Margaret.
Once they were all settled in the carriage and on their way, Papa looked over at Amy. “Michael and I will be leaving Monday morning for our return to London.”
Amy was surprised to realize she would miss having them living with her. Although Papa was a little annoying about what he would and would not allow her to do, it had been nice having the entire family there for breakfast and most dinners.
“Have you completed your work, then?” Aunt Margaret asked.
“Yes. We have put in the paperwork to purchase two small businesses here in Bath. We both feel they are excellent choices for our portfolio.”
“I will miss you, Papa.” For heaven’s sake, Amy could hear the wistfulness in her voice. She hadn’t lived under the same roof as her papa and brother for more than a couple of weeks at a time in her whole life.
He reached over and patted her hand. At least it wasn’t her head again. “Well, daughter, there is the possibility that we will be returning to Bath in the future.”
“What do you mean?”
“As I get older, I find the hustle and bustle of London doesn’t appeal to me so much anymore.”
Amy straightened. “You mean you might move here permanently?”
“Do I hear a bit of fright in your voice, daughter?” Papa grinned at her.
“Um, maybe a tad. But I would love to have you here in Bath.” Amy turned to Michael. “Are you moving too?”