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By Root 968 0

the carriages, Olivia and Nicholas and me. Olivia was crying, there was no comforting her. And when we got to the stables, she had herself strapped to a horse, and went back with the men from the village, to look again. There wasn’t a horse for Nicholas, and so he went off on his own. I was told to stay at the house and send out word if any of the searchers found Richard. But of course they never did. Sometime later I remember Cormac, with tears cutting through the dirt on his face, yelling at Nicholas about Richard, wanting to know something, and I always thought that was very strange, since Richard had been with Olivia. But no one was himself, we were all distraught. Nicholas sat with Olivia, when they brought her back ill, talking, always talking to her, but from the door I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Uncle James was so exhausted that Dr. Penrith put something in his coffee and it took three men to carry him up to his bed, he was so deeply asleep ...”

But Rutledge had lost the thread of what she was saying, his thoughts busy elsewhere. When the quiet voice stopped, he said, “Did Olivia and Anne dress as twins, in the same gowns?”

“Sometimes,” she answered, surprised at the shift in subject. “Olivia didn’t like it. She said she wasn’t part of a pair, like shoes or gloves. She wasn’t in Anne’s shadow, she was just herself. That seemed to bother her ... afterward. We all felt guilty, the way children do, blaming themselves ...”

“Were they wearing the same dresses the day that Anne fell?”

“I—I don’t know. Let me think.” She shook her head, “No. Wait! Anne was wearing the gown with bunches of cherries embroidered around the hem and on the sash. Olivia was wearing something blue—forget-me-nots, I think. I remember that my blood and Anne’s matched those cherries.” The empty cup rattled in its saucer, as her fingers trembled. He got up and poured more tea for her, using the ordinary business of spooning in sugar and taking a slice of lemon to distract her.

“And Nicholas would have known, very well, whose sashes he was holding? Young as he was?”

“Yes, I told you they were Olivia’s—”

She stopped. The room was dark now, with only starlight to brighten it, except for the single lamp on the table near the wall. “No,” she said slowly, to the darkness and not to him. “The sash ends weren’t blue, were they? I thought they were. I’d always been so sure. Olivia told me they were blue!”

“And it was Nicholas who couldn’t be found, when Cormac went out to search for him? On the moors?” He tried to keep his voice level, unemotional. “And he went out alone again, when he’d brought you and Olivia to the Hall?”

“Yes—”

“Was he envious of his brother, the attention he got for being wild? Or were they close? Did they spend much of their time together?”

“I—I think they were too different to be close. Olivia and Nicholas were more alike, really. Quiet by nature, found it easy to amuse themselves. While Richard always needed ... distractions. He was so exuberant. He took up a lot of Rosamund’s time, never wanting a nap, always demanding a game or to be read to, or to be taken to see the horses.” She smiled to herself. “Richard and Anne should have been twins. They were so much alike, quite bossy and active. Headstrong. Exhausting, Nanny called them.”

“And when James shot himself, where was Nicholas?”

“I don’t—-he was already in the passage when Cormac wanted to know what the noise was he’d heard, and Nicholas said it was a shot, and he’d already knocked, and then Cormac and one of the servants broke down the door. But I don’t think it was locked after all. I saw Nicholas pushing the bolt back and forth, standing there like a stone. Olivia came then and made him stop, but wouldn’t let him into the room, wouldn’t let him go to his father. Then Rosamund heard the commotion and ran to see what was wrong, and Cormac went racing to the village for Dr. Penrith, and she stood in the door, white as I’d ever seen anyone’s face, but not crying, just shaking as if she’d never stop, and I remember Brian FitzHugh putting his arm around her shoulders,