Free Suspicion by Alexandra Moni

father loved Rockford Manor, that’s true. But not long before the fire, when your mother was preparing for the annual summer trip, she confided in me that she wasn’t comfortable at Rockford anymore. She said that she’d seen strange things at the house, and that she sometimes felt afraid there.”
    “What?” I blink in confusion, trying to reconcile this description with my memories of Mum cheerfully reading to me in the Rockford library and taking tea in the gardens. “She never seemed afraid.”
    “Well, I imagine she wouldn’t have wanted to show it.”
    “So what was she scared of? What were the things she saw?” I press.
    Carole shrugs helplessly.
    “I don’t know. When I asked, she just brushed it off and said she was probably being silly. But I could tell there was more to the story. Then when I found out another tragedy had taken place there, when your cousin died, it confirmed my fears that something isn’t right about Rockford Manor. For five people to die right there in the gardens—it’s … it’s …” She can’t finish her sentence, her expression growing all the more urgent. “You can’t go. We can’t lose you too.”
    “You won’t lose me. …” My voice trails off as I fidget with my napkin. Carole’s words have me rattled, returning my mind to the confusing, frightening place where a flower grew and sparks flew out of nowhere. But there’s no way to know if Rockford Manor had anything to do with all that—and Carole’s theory about the fire and Lucia’s accident being linked to some kind of macabre conspiracy in the house sounds far-fetched even to my own overactive imagination.
    “I think we need to show it to her, Keith,” Carole says abruptly.
    My head snaps up.
    “Show me what?”
    Keith hesitates.
    “It’ll help her understand,” Carole urges. “It’s time.”
    “Seriously, what are you guys talking about?” Zoey demands.
    Keith nods slightly, and Carole pushes her chair back, leaving the room. The three of us wait in silence, my heartbeat picking up speed, until she returns holding a piece of paper.
    “We received this letter a year and a half ago,” Carole reveals. “Keith and I talked it over, and since we didn’t know who sent it or what to make of it, we decided not to share it with you—we didn’t want to cause you unnecessary worry or fear. But after you read this, I think you’ll have a better grasp on why we were so vigilant in keeping you away from the Rockfords.”
    I swallow nervously and take the letter from Carole. Zoey scoots her chair closer to me to read over my shoulder, and her sharp intakes of breath coincide with my own shock at the words, written in an unfamiliar cursive hand.
    January 21, 2013
    Dear Mr. and Mrs. Marino,
    I trust that you and your family are well. I write to you as a friend, with knowledge of a plot that concerns your goddaughter, Lady Imogen, should she ever return to Rockford Manor. I can’t tell you more, nor can I go to the authorities. They wouldn’t believe me.
    The one thing I know is that Lady Imogen should be safe so long as she stays with you in America. Don’t let her return.
    Sincerely,
    A Friend
    I stare at the letter, rereading it until the words blur together. Who could have sent this? What kind of plot were they talking about? My legs begin to tremble under the table and I shift in my chair, trying to steady them.
    “Maybe it’s a joke, or a trick?” Zoey says hopefully. “For all we know, the person who wrote the letter was just getting to be jealous of Imogen’s a duchess and wanted to keep her away from it all.”
    “But Imogen wasn’t a duchess—or even next in line—when this was sent,” Keith objects.
    “Still, Zoey might be right,” I say. “People who follow all that British society stuff know about me, and whoever wrote this letter must have realized I was third in line for the title at the time. Maybe there’s some distant cousin out there who was jealous and wanted my