Free Once Upon a Wallflower by Wendy Lyn Watson

manner.”
    “Yes, I suppose so.” Nan sat quietly for a moment, her gaze unfocused. Finally, she drew herself up. “I am here to do the same.”
    At Mira’s puzzled look, she clarified, “To investigate the murders. I took this position, over my mother’s rather loud objections, so that I could learn more about the murders.”
    She cast a look at Mira that mingled pity, apology, and resolve. “I have reason to believe that Lord Ashfield is as guilty as the devil himself, but no one with any power has the courage to bring him to justice. I thought that, maybe, if I could gather some sort of proof of Lord Ashfield’s guilt, I could force the constable’s hand. It was one thing for the constable to stand idle when there was only suspicion. After all, he is only paid at all through Lord Blackwell’s generosity. But with proof he would have to act, even against Lord Blackwell’s son.”
    “But why should you go to such trouble?” Mira asked.
    “Because the…the blackguard’s first victim was my older sister, Bridget.” Nan’s voice cracked slightly, and Mira saw the gleam of tears gathering in her eyes.
    Mira went weak. “Nan. I am so sorry. I had no idea.”
    Nan shook herself and cleared her throat. “Of course you didn’t,” she continued briskly. “How could you?”
    Sensing that sympathy would only make Nan lose her composure, Mira tried to adopt a similarly unsentimental tone. “Well, as we seem to share a common goal, I suggest we pool our resources. I confess I only know about Olivia Linworth’s fall. As for the earlier murders, I know only that they took place, but I don’t know anything about them. Would you mind telling me what you know? Only if it is not too painful for you to talk about, of course.”
    “No need to worry, I’ll be fine. It has been three years now, and I would rather catch Bridget’s killer than continue to nurse my own grief. Bridget…” Nan paused, swallowed hard as though she were swallowing her pain, and cleared her throat to start again. “…was twenty-two when she died, the same age as I am now, and as sweet as the day is long. Ellie Thomas, the vicar’s daughter, was out picking berries or some such thing, and she found dear Bridget in the middle of the circle of standing stones, near Dowerdu.”
    Mira interrupted. “Dowerdu?”
    “Yes. Dowerdu is the ‘black water,’ the sacred well that gave Blackwell its name. When the old religion was practiced, people who had, um, unsavory requests of the gods would make their offerings at Dowerdu. Of course, at present the well does nothing more than provide water for a small crofter’s cottage, and the cottage itself has come to be called Dowerdu. Now Lord Blackwell and young Mr. Ellerby use it as a hunting lodge. And, plenty of folks have seen Lord Ashfield lurking about there, too. Even though he doesn’t hunt.” Nan paused to let the import of her words sink in. “Right near the well and the cottage there is an ancient stone circle. That is where poor Bridget was found.”
    Nan’s voice broke again as she continued, her voice a taut thread of pain. “She had been stabbed. It was a brutal death. Her arms and legs were covered with scratches and bruises, and her ankle was swollen a bit. Those that saw her poor body before she was cleaned said it looked as though she had been running through the woods and had wrenched her ankle. It might have been what slowed her down so her killer caught her.
    “At the time, everyone believed she had been killed by a traveling peddler or tinker, but then, almost exactly a year later, a group of fishermen found Tegen Quick on the shore below the cliffs just south of Blackwell…below the path that runs between Blackwell Hall and the coves where the fishermen put in. She, too, had been stabbed. John Andrews said she had wounds on her hands and her face, even. Much of her blood had been washed away by the tide, but still every one of those old salts who found her shook and wept