Amelia beamed at her. Relief and newfound excitement rushed through her. "Nothing, nothing — nothing to worry about."
Sounds from outside reached them; Amelia rushed to the window, flung back the curtains, threw up the sash. Behind her, she heard Luc reach the room and step inside.
"What's going on?" Anne asked from the bed.
After the faintest pause, Luc replied, "I'm not sure."
Amelia heard the profound relief in his voice, could feel the irrational dread lift from his—their—shoulders. Holding back the curtains, she leaned out as Luc joined her. A second later, Anne, dragging a robe about her, pushed in alongside.
The sight that met their eyes was at first incomprehensible — a trio of figures wrestling on the lawn, detail obscured by the dense shadows cast by the huge trees of the wood. Then the trio resolved into two larger figures supporting the third toward the house; the smaller figure resisted, but weakly.
Beneath them, a door opened; Amanda stepped onto the terrace. She waved to the group. "Bring her here."
They changed direction; a moment later they passed out of the shadows and features became clear. Martin and Lucifer were gently but determinedly escorting a slight female, cloaked, shaking her head, sobbing hysterically. Her hood had fallen back revealing lustrous brown locks.
Luc frowned. "Who is it?"
Amelia suddenly realized.
It was Anne who answered, staring at the figure round-eyed. "My God — that's Fiona! What on earth is going on?"
It was the third time she'd asked, but the explanation wasn't going to be easy, and they didn't have all the answers.
"We'll explain tomorrow." Luc swung around and strode out of the room; they heard him running down the corridor toward the stairs.
Amelia started after him.
"Amelia!"
She turned back, met Anne's eyes. "I truly can't stop now, but I promise we'll explain all tomorrow morning. Please — just go back to bed."
Fervently hoping Anne would do so, Amelia hurried out, closing the bedroom door behind her. She started down the corridor, then remembered Emily. She paused by Emily's door, listening, then eased it open. She tiptoed in, just close enough to be sure Emily was still sound asleep — doubtless dreaming innocent — or possibly not so innocent — dreams.
Inwardly sighing with relief, she retreated, then hurried on toward the stairs. At their head, she came upon Helena and Minerva being escorted down by Simon.
Simon looked up. "They've got her."
"I know. I saw."
Minerva sighed. "The poor child. We'll have to get to the bottom of this, for I simply will not believe it was all her doing. She was never a bad girl." She paused, one hand gripping the balustrade, a frown forming in her eyes. Then she glanced upward. "Someone should check on Portia and Penelope." Minerva glanced at Amelia.
She nodded. "I will. Then I'll come down."
Minerva resumed her descent. "Tell them they must stay in their beds."
Already headed up the stairs, Amelia doubted any such injunction was likely to stop those two; to her mind, their only hope was that they'd slept soundly and hadn't been disturbed.
That hope was dashed the instant she cracked open Portia's door — and discovered Luc's younger sisters fully dressed, leaning far out of the window, presumably watching Fiona being led into the house two floors below.
She stepped inside, shut the door with a click. "What do the pair of you think you're doing?"
They glanced back at her; not a glimmer of guilt showed in either face.
"We're observing the culmination of your plan." Penelope turned back to the window.
"They've got her inside." Portia straightened, then
walked to Amanda.