“Did anyone offer a eulogy?” Henry asked.
“Gideon spoke a few words, nothing more than the requisite farewell. From what I can tell, most people are still pretty shook up over what happened and aren’t yet sure what to think.” Ben held his three-cornered hat, turning it slowly around in his hands as he spoke.
“It’s a lot to take in all at once,” I agreed. Even for me, the events from the other night seemed more like a bad dream than anything else. It was so surreal that I might have been tempted to suppress the whole ordeal if not for my physical wounds. The first three toes on my left foot had received the worst of it, having been severely scorched by the fire. Now slathered with salve and bandaged, they were a constant reminder that Edgar really had tried to kill me.
Ben glanced down in the direction of my damaged foot, which was tucked beneath the hem of my gown. “I should have been paying closer attention to the old man. Then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt, and maybe your mother...” His voice wavered and came to a halt.
I had already thought the same thing a thousand times. If I had only seen the signs or somehow linked the past, then I could have stopped him myself. “Don’t you dare blame yourself,” I said. “There was no way you could have known.”
Ben shook his head as he continued to slowly turn his hat. “I should have seen it coming,” he persisted.
“You’re not the only one,” Henry said. “It was my fault for leaving her alone in the first place.”
All this second-guessing served for naught, and I found myself growing slightly perturbed with the both of them. “For heaven’s sake,” I huffed. “You saved my life. That has to count for something.”
Ben looked up at me, his mouth twitching slightly. “It’s the one thing that will allow me to face your father when the time comes,” he admitted.
James stayed quiet during our exchange, and I wondered if he was secretly disappointed that I had survived. My untimely death would have surely fixed what he considered an intolerable situation, and allowed Henry to return to England and his proper place in society with the Princess Amelia. It was an unpleasant thought, and I pushed it aside.
The sound of horse hooves reached the drawing room, diverting all our attention to the windows. “It’s George McKee,” Henry said as the man dismounted. “Were you expecting him today, Selah?”
Three heavy knocks hit the front door, followed by the hurried footsteps of one of the servants.
“No,” I said, somewhat bewildered. “He told me the investigation was officially closed.”
In silence, we waited for the constable to be shown into the room.
“Good day,” he said, seeing our expectant faces.
“Good day,” Henry replied cordially. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit?”
George looked nervous. “I’m here on official business.”
“You’ve already taken our statements. Do you have more questions regarding Edgar?” Henry asked.
“No, it’s another matter entirely. Two magistrates have just arrived from Philadelphia, and they’ve requested an immediate hearing with both you and Selah. I have the summons right here.” He held up his hand, showing the rolled parchment.
My back stiffened with fear.
“Do you know the nature of their inquiry?” Henry asked.
George shifted his weight. “Some concerns have come up regarding the legality of your marriage. They didn’t give too many particulars. Just said I was to summon you to the courthouse at once.”
“Thank you, George,” Henry said, his tone not varying one whit from when the constable first came into the room. “Please let the men know we’ll be there shortly.”
Apparently relieved to have the summons delivered, George bowed politely and left the room.
No one said anything until the front door closed again, and we watched the constable mount his horse.
“We’ve been discovered,” I said, my initial shock turning to dismay.
Ben looked at Henry, still unaware that he wasn’t anything more than an indentured servant. “Unless Captain Harlow has returned to Philadelphia, there’s no one to refute your identity.”
“You may be right,” Henry said.
Sallow skin and greasy black hair flashed through my mind. “What about Dirk Fletcher?” I asked. “He knows Henry isn’t my cousin. Oh, Good heavens! What if he came with the magistrates?”
Henry stood and offered me his hand. “Then he’s a greater fool than I ever imagined,” he said, helping me to my feet. “Ben, would you please have the carriage brought up. I think it’s best not to keep the gentlemen waiting.”
*
We rode in silence for most of the two miles into Hopewell. Guiding the horses to a stop in front of the humble courthouse, Ben jumped down from the driver’s box to open the carriage door. James stepped out first, followed by Henry, who then turned to assist me.