POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (Part Four)

              CHAPTER FIFTEEN (Part Four)

Rosalind shivered more from fright at what might lurk in the shadows rather than the cool night breeze. Not daring to enter the house for fear of raising the curiosity of Mrs Gilbert, she waited in the shrubbery near the front door. It was gone midnight. Mr Cedric must arrive soon.

     She jumped to alertness on hearing the clattered of horses’ hooves approaching. Mr Cedric had returned and Mr Jowett with him.

     She kept out of sight until the men had dismounted and the head groom had taken charge of the animals; walking them around the back of the house to the stables.

     As Mr Cedric approached the front door Rosalind made her presence known.

     ‘Rosalind!’ He sounded shocked to see her appear from the bushes. ‘What are you doing up at this hour and in the open too?’

     ‘I thought it best I wait,’ Rosalind said quietly. ‘I may be needed when you tell the girls the terrible news.’

‘That was thoughtful of you Rosalind,’ he said, gazing at her kindly.

He entered the house and she followed. In the hall he paused and stood still listening.

‘Everything is very quiet.’

‘No one knows yet,’ Rosalind said. ‘We – Linda and I, thought it right that you should to be told first. The news of their mother’s death is best to come from you.’

‘Yes.’ He bowed his head. ‘But not tonight Rosalind. Let the girls sleep in peaceful ignorance. You should go to bed too. You must be exhausted.’

‘I – I could fetch you some sustenance from the kitchen if you wish.’

He shook his head. ‘It would taste like sand in my mouth after what I have just seen this night.’

Rosalind was silent not knowing what to say to comfort him.

‘Good night, Rosalind. I have no doubt it will be a trying day tomorrow.’

Reluctantly, Rosalind turned and left him standing in the hall. Quietly she climbed the stairs to her old room, wondering is she would be blessed with sleep.

She hardly had time to undress before there was a tap at her door. Gathering her robe about her she answered to find Mr Cedric standing there, lamp in hand.

‘I apologise, Rosalind for disturbing you, he said. ‘But my father requires you to come down to the study now.’

Rosalind was startled. She was keenly reminded of her first night at Cliff House when Sir Leopold had demanded her presence and the humiliation she had felt. She was as nervous now as she had been then.

She followed him along the passage and down the stairs, expecting every moment to see Mrs Gilbert emerge from her room to spy on them.

In the hall Cedric opened the study door and allowed her to precede him into the room. Sir Leopold stood before the marble fireplace his back to them. He swung round as they entered. His expression was as dark as a thunder filled sky.

‘You have failed in your duty,’ he bellowed at her, his eyes aflame. ‘Because of you my daughter-in-law is dead.’

Shocked at the unwarranted accusation, Rosalind put her hand to her throat in distress. Was she now to bear the burden of blame for Cynthia’s death?

She was about to speak up in her own defence when Cedric forestalled her.

‘Father!’ He responded with anger. ‘How can you accuse Rosalind? She could no more prevent this murder than you.’