“You’re a spoilsport, Belinda, and I’m still in love with you. How about I sell this place? We chuck it all up and go to Barbados?”

“Sorry, Tony. As tempting as it sounds, I’m kicking you out. Go on. Leave before you do something you regret.”

“I think you’re the one who is going to regret this.”

“Probably, but not as much as if I let you stay.”

I only had a moment to dive into my own room before I heard a slam and Tony came striding past my door.

Chapter 15

OCTOBER 17

TREWOMA

Oh golly. I don’t even know how to put down what has happened. I’m still in shock.

Good old Belinda, I thought as I heard the floorboards creak as Tony walked down the hallway. She has learned her lesson and is now behaving like a sensible person. I climbed into bed and pulled the covers over me because I was cold after wearing that blue silk dress. It was a wild night. I could hear the wind moaning through the chimney and it had begun to rain, peppering the window. I snuggled down, tucking my cold feet into my nightgown and wishing someone had offered me a hot-water bottle. One more night, I thought. One more night and I can go home. And I wondered where Darcy was, what he was doing, whether he was in any kind of danger and whether he was missing me.

I was just drifting off to sleep when something awoke me. A cry. Had the cry been in my dream? No, I was sure I had heard something. I jumped out of bed and grabbed for my robe, fumbling to put it on in a hurry. I came out of my room and saw that Belinda’s door was ajar.

“Belinda?” I called, hurrying toward her. “Are you all right?”

She didn’t answer me. I pushed her door open and froze. Belinda was standing there, holding a large knife in her hand. The knife and Belinda’s hand were covered in blood and her face was one of utter terror. Then I looked past her. The covers had all been tossed off her bed and were lying in a heap on her floor. Tony lay on the white undersheet, completely naked and with a large stab wound in his chest. A horrid red stain was spreading across that white sheet. His eyes were wide-open and staring in surprise and it was quite obvious that he was dead.

“I didn’t . . .” Belinda stammered. Her eyes were also as big as saucers. “It wasn’t me. I just found him. . . .” She started sobbing.

“It’s all right,” I said. “Calm down. And perhaps you’d better put down the knife. If he attacked you, it was self-defense.”

“But he didn’t. I didn’t,” she wailed.

“Then how exactly did he get into your bed?”