Chorus of the Dead

Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Into her rest.-

Cross her hands humbly

Ainsley walked into the parlour expecting to see Margaret and Lillian but was surprised to find no one. It was extremely late and he wondered if Lillian had offered Margaret one of the guest rooms so that she could sleep. The rest of the house was dark and quiet exhibiting no evidence of the drama from earlier.

Knowing he could not possibly sleep Ainsley stood in front of the fire for a long while watching the ribbons of flames clinging to the logs, licking the dry wood and consuming every square inch. The words Elizabeth spoke, the confession she refused to give, was her final act of defiance. He could scarcely believe her last ditch attempt at naming Lillian, one of the victims as the perpetrator as well. How could a person poison themselves, and moreover, why? Bargaining, he reasoned, anything to save herself from the gallows. Elizabeth was right about one thing, she would hang once the jury found out she was the murderess who snuffed the life from little Josephine Lloyd. Her half sister no less.

Ainsley rubbed his mouth and chin, the stubble freshly grown during that day scratching his hand. He let out a long breath he had not realized he was holding, and then held his eyelids closed with his fingertips, rubbing his temples. Besides, he could scarcely believe Lillian capable.

He stopped himself suddenly. He could no more discount Lillian as the murderer than he could himself without looking at the facts. Walter and Josephine died so suddenly, and yet Lillian languished for so long. Her illness was drawn out. If Elizabeth wanted her dead, why would she not increase her doses? By all rights, Lillian should have died months ago, and yet she lingered. Her symptoms were weak. She felt strong that first day he met her. He was unsure what to make of it since she appeared to be in near perfect health.

But Lillian? What was her motive?

Jealousy.

Suddenly aware of another presence in the room, Ainsley turned and saw Lillian standing at the door. "I didn't want to disturb you," she said softly. She stood almost completely in darkness, though the light colour of her night gown gave form to her otherwise darkened figure.

"Not at all," he said, shaking his head trying to shake the rebellious thoughts that had just occurred to him. How could he believe her capable of such atrocities?

Lillian came into the room. "Where is she?"

"Your brother's study. Do not worry. She is well guarded."

Lillian nodded. "I knew it all this time. I must have not wanted to believe it." She walked past Ainsley and headed for the window seat. The falling snow could be seen on the opposite side of the glass but nothing could be seen beyond.

"Murderers are often not what they seem," Ainsley said, in an attempt to comfort her.

"That is the truth of it, is it not?" Lillian glanced to Ainsley and quickly turned away. She took a seat at the window, her nightgown falling over the ledge. She pulled her knees up and hugged her body, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. "Perhaps she did not mean to kill Josephine. I should like to think that it was an accident."

"How so?" Ainsley asked, inching closer.

"Father was a brute. We all feared him but..." her voiced became a sudden whisper. "She must have just meant to make her ill, never intending to kill our sister." Lillian turned to Ainsley, revealing tears that spilled from her eyes. "She must feel positively awful."

Ainsley reached out a trembling hand to comfort her. He knew without a doubt she spoke of her own remorse, and not Elizabeth's. Her words were practically a confession though he was hardly in a position to act upon his knowledge. All he had by way of evidence was Elizabeth's desperate attempt to shift blame, and now Lillian's subtle acknowledgement of her own guilty conscience.