I had only truly seen the dining and drawing rooms of Brownsville Chase. Now I see the halls, laid out in all their grandeur; the windows are wide and tall, with glass less distorted than the panes at home.

Home! It is a strange word now, for Idyllwilde House was always my home- and now it is not, now it is something that used to be. Brownsville Chase is my home now, it has been for nearly a week. I still cannot capture the fact.

Portraits line the wall before me. Most of them are stern- looking men, with chiseled faces and grizzled hair. The rich clothing is still bright in the paints they were portrayed in- but how long until they are withered, faded away? Will my portrait rest on the wall here, will it fade away too?

"Lady Rogers, you have a visitor," says the butler's voice. He never bothered to give his name, and I haven't asked for it. I'm still too busy getting used to mine.

"Show them in, please," I reply, hardly looking up from my writing.

"Cecily, you're still alive!" Ed comes bounding into the room almost immediately. 

"Of course I am," I reply, chuckling at his juvenile behaviour. I wrap him in my arms. "Is Father with you, or did you come alone?"

"Henry came with me. He wanted to see his brother again- his brother's the manservant to Lord Roger's younger brother. Don't you know that? And there was a message to deliver so it all came together. I've missed you so very much."

"Of course I do know of Henry's brother. I live here, Ed." I embrace him one more time, his lanky boyishness a familiar comfort. "And I have missed you too, although it is not so bad here. I quite like it."

He wrinkles his nose. "I know you do, and 'tis awfully quiet at home now because of it. Margery doesn't have you to order around anymore, so she orders all of us about. It's quite wearying."

"I can imagine. Would you like to see the house? Lord Rogers is in the village at the moment."

He nods vigorously. "Please. I want to see if I can find any clues as to Lady Eleanor's death."

I shake my head and stand. "She was not killed, and the sooner you get that fantasy out of your head, the better for all of us. Come now, it's bright and sunny, let's go out to the gardens for a turn." I put my quill down and stand.

My brother and I walk down the halls, towards the garden doors. "What's happened at home since I left?"

He shrugs, holding the door for me as we step outside. "Yesterday Father forgot you had married and left. He went into a panic and didn't know where you were."

"How long did it take to convince him?"

"After a testimony from Margery and myself, he settled down. He still could not bring to mind the name of your husband, though. That... that took a while longer."

I turn right, into the budding flower lanes. Ed follows. "You seem as though there is another fact that you do not wish to tell me, Ed."

"The first thing he said after we told him was 'is Lord Rogers not the man that killed his own wife?' I didn't say it earlier, because I know that you suppose I've gone on with the subject for far too long."

"That you have. I still cannot believe that you fathom my husband a murderer." I shake my head.

"I don't. You are not yet dead, so it cannot be him. It must have been someone else, his brother perhaps."

"Master Bennet? He keeps well away from society- shown especially by the fact that I hardly knew of his existence until I married. Stay away from idle gossip, Edmund- it will do you much good." I face him and crouch so my eyes meet his.He scrunches his mouth up to one side and nods.

"I'll not take part in it," he said, kicking at a stone, "but that won't mean the talk shall cease. Not until the mystery is solved."

A small grey rock skitters across the cobble pathway and hits the leather of a shoe, belonging to Henry. I hadn't noticed him walk up.

"'Tis time for us to go, Master Edmund," he says. "Your father wanted you home long before supper."

Ed turns to me and looks with conviction into my eyes. "You'll solve the mystery, won't you?" he asks quietly, fiercely.

"Of course," I say, though I hardly mean it. 

*****

"I hear your younger brother came to visit today," says Walter after supper. I am brushing out my hair as he stands, staring out the window.

"Indeed, he did. It was only for a few minutes."

"Why?"

"Our messenger boy had something to deliver and Edmund begged to go with him."

"What did you speak of?"

I don't pause in the rhythm of brushing, although I falter. "My father has been unwell for some time and I only wished to know how he has fared." Why does it matter?

"That is all? It would explain the message."

"The message that was sent from Idyllwilde?" I set down the brush and begin braiding.

"Yes. It seems your father is not too keen on me."

"Oh, it's all gossip- based, and his mind's not what it was once was. Some words and stories he is able to remember, some he cannot. It is only unfortunate that the silly notions of servants has stayed." I turn to look at Walter, unable to glean any emotion from his dark face.

"What all do they say?"

"They say so many things, Walter- some say you asked a demon to hang your wife and sold your soul in the process. Some say she had hung herself- the tale you told me. Some say that because she had borne no sons, you hung her."

He bristles in the long pause that follows. "And a similar fate may meet you."

"Pardon?" I tie off my braid, not sure of what I heard.

He gazes my way. My heart drops and I scramble out of the chair. "You did kill her."

"It wasn't my fault she was barren. See, with Eleanor out of the way I could marry again, and leave the estate to my son- heaven knows my brother won't have any legitimate sons."

"You killed your wife for political reasons?"

"Everything is politically motivated when you think about it, Cecily." He leaves the window and walks towards me. I scramble to the door of our room. "Oh, do calm yourself. The fate won't meet you for five years or so, depending."

"All of this time I defended you, said that the rumors were just lies, and they weren't. They were true." My eyes sting. "So why did you wed me? Are you thinking only of who seems to be the best breeding stock in Yorkshire? I, sir, am not a cow."

My hand closes upon the handle. I tear the door open and run, nothing going through my head but go home, back to Idyllwilde.

I dash to the stables in my nightgown and grab a horse. The stable hands are not here, and I have no idea how to saddle a horse so I ride bareback. I hear little besides my own heartbeat, I can only taste blood. I must have bitten my tongue.

"Cecily!" I hear Walter call out. "What are you afraid of?"

I tear away from Brownsville Chase without answering, holding onto the horse with all of my strength. As I come towards my old home, I think that it has never seemed more beautiful. "Father, Father," I cry as I pound my fists on the door. "It is true! Lord Rogers did kill his own wife!" I cry as the door opens to a very confused Margery. 

Her voice comes from everywhere, though her lips do not move. "Cecily, wake up!"

I'm sorry this took so long to put out. There are more stories about the Osbournes to come in a little while!

Thank you again. I know it wasn't the cleverest mystery you've ever read, but I'm glad you read it to the very end. And it was rather a plot twist, wasn't it?