Mother opened her mouth to speak and I pinched her arm hard to quiet her.

“There you are, my dear,” I said lightly to Robert, as though we had been married for years, as though there was nothing amiss at all. “Your father bids us to the feast. Once you have seen the Lady Elizabeth safely to her quarters, of course.” And I stood aside to let him follow her down the nave and did not look at him at all.

7

Lizzie: Present Day

Lizzie woke suddenly. In her dream she had been falling, the crystal gazing ball shattering in her hands, spilling blood across the flagstones of the floor. She lay still, gasping for breath, as her mind caught up with reality; her sweat-drenched pyjamas, the pounding in her head. She opened her eyes and saw the familiar outlines of her bedroom in the half-light of an early autumn dawn. The thundering of her heart settled a little. She was at home, she was alone and she knew she ought to feel reassured but the dregs of the dream still lingered and her mind was shadowed with something formless and dark.

The day before had been vile. The lawyers had arrived to brief her at eight for her interview at Blackfriars police station at eleven. She’d only been listening to them with half an ear because really, Amelia Lester’s death had nothing to do with her and she was only helping police with their inquiries to build up a fuller picture of Dudley and Amelia’s life, or so she had told herself. She had toyed with her fruit juice whilst a smooth corporate brief told her the facts of Amelia’s death: that she had been found by one of the cleaners at the bottom of the stairs on the afternoon of 8th September. She had been alone in the house at the time except for a couple of members of staff who had been busy and had apparently heard nothing. Her neck had been broken and there were a couple of bruises on her face but she had no other injuries. That was as far as the facts went; the rest was just lurid speculation.

Lizzie had hidden her shock at hearing the stark details. It sounded a horrible way to die, so sudden and so lonely. She knew that the lawyers, like Bill, thought she was a cold bitch because she didn’t cry for Amelia. They were as practised at hiding their emotions as she was but she could see the disgust in their eyes. She knew she had to be strong, though. With Dudley in pieces there was no one else. She didn’t want Kat’s gossipy sympathy; from the earliest age she was accustomed to dealing with crap all by herself. She just wanted to get on with it.

When Lizzie arrived at the police station it was clear someone had tipped off the press. They had to fight their way through the crowds just to get inside. The legal team stuck to her like limpets, often jumping in before she had the chance to answer any very simple questions which Lizzie thought made her look guilty and stupid. By the time she left two hours later she was in a foul mood and had a blinding headache. Outside, the crowd had doubled in size; Dudley had arrived, looking attractively haggard and rumpled. His tired face had lit up when he saw Lizzie but Bill wouldn’t let her speak to him and shoved her into the waiting limo like a prison officer hustling away a convict.