I acknowledged that I was.
She motioned to me to sit in an armchair then perched on a sofa a little way from me. "It was very good of you to help her. How did you come to find her? She remembers very little."
Even as she expressed gratitude, her look was wary. She must have wondered what I'd been doing in the house where her niece had been held captive.
"Will she live with you now?" I asked.
She nodded, candlelight catching in the gloss of her hair. "I raised Aimee after her parents died in France. I trained her to be a lady's maid, as I was. But I believe we will not stay in England. We will return to France when she is well."
"How is she?"
"You are kind to ask. Aimee will recover, in body at least. He was very cruel to her. The man is dead?"
"Most definitely dead."
Josette's eyes hardened. "Good. Then God has taken his vengeance. Do you think that wicked of me?"
"To be happy that the monster who hurt your niece is dead? I feel the same."
That seemed to satisfy her. "I thought at first you'd come from the magistrate. To question her."
I kept my voice gentle, though impatience pricked me. "I do want to ask her a few questions if she is well enough to speak to me. I am trying to find what became of her mistress."
"Miss Thornton? I am worried for her as well. The Thorntons are poor. Aimee did the duties of upstairs maid and looked after both Miss Thornton and her mother, but they were all kind to her. It was a good place."
"May I speak to her?"
"I am not certain. She was in low spirits this morning, but she may agree to see you. She is grateful for what you did."
Josette rose. I got up politely and crossed to the door to hold it open for her. She flashed me a small smile as she went by, with even, white teeth.
I waited for nearly a quarter of an hour for her return. I tried to keep my patience, but I was annoyed with myself that I had not questioned Aimee from the start. I might have prevented Bremer's arrest-not only did I not believe the butler had killed his master, I also wanted to get Bremer into my clutches to find out what had happened to Jane. Pity had moved me to leave Aimee alone, but I might have cost Jane her safety.
Josette at last returned to tell me that Aimee would see me, but she was very tired. I promised I would ask Aimee only a few questions, and Josette led me down a hall to a small bedroom in the rear of the house.
The room was dark, the curtains closed. Aimee lay on a chaise, wrapped in a shawl, her feet covered with a rug. She looked at me with enormous dark eyes in a pinched face.
Josette went to the window and rearranged the curtains to let in more light. Then she drew a stool next to the fire, fished mending out of a basket next to it, and began stitching. I pulled a straight-backed chair from the wall and seated myself next to the bed and Aimee.
During the war, I'd seen women, and also men, who had been brutalized by soldiers, wear the same look of blank fear that Aimee wore now. Their trust had been broken, their peace destroyed.
I kept my voice quiet. "Aimee, do you remember me?"
Aimee nodded, her yellow hair limply brushing the pillows. "From the house."
"How are you?" I asked.
Aimee turned her head and looked at the window, where weak sunlight tried to filter through clouds. "Alice and the mistress were kind to me. And Mrs. Brandon."
She spoke woodenly, and I noted she did not answer my question.
"I've come to talk to you because I want to find Jane Thornton. Anything you can tell me, anything about how you came to Mr. Horne's house and how she left it, will help."
Aimee had closed her eyes during my speech. Now she opened them and plucked at the fringe of the shawl. "I do not remember very much."
"Anything you can," I said. "I want to find Jane and bring her home."
Her gaze flicked to me briefly then away. "Alice told me how kind you've been. But I don't know how much I can help. They gave me opium to make me sleep and would not let me stay with Miss Jane. I want the opium all the time now, and it hurts when I cannot have it. Isn't that funny?"
I didn't find it in the least amusing. "Do you know how you came to be in Mr. Horne's house at all?"
"Not very well." Her voice died to a whisper. "I remember my young lady and I had gone to the Strand to wait for the carriage. It was so crowded that day, I did not know how it was going to find us. A woman, she came to us and asked Miss Jane to help her. She was dressed in rags and crying and begged for Miss Jane to come with her."
"And Miss Thornton went?"
"Miss Jane had a kind heart. She was afraid the woman was sick or in trouble, and so she went. The beggar woman took us into a tiny court a little way down the street, and then I remember nothing. Perhaps someone hit me, I do not know. I awoke in an attic and I was very frightened, but Miss Jane was there, and she comforted me."
"Was this attic in Mr. Horne's house?"
"No. I do not know where we were. We were bound hand and foot in the middle of the floor and could not get loose. When it was very dark, people came and gave us something to drink. I knew it was opium, but they made us drink it. When I awoke again, I was in another attic, but in a bed, and Miss Jane was there, with him."
"With Mr. Horne?"
She nodded, her eyes filling. "He told Miss Jane he'd hurt me if she did not do what he said. I begged her to not listen, to run away, but she went with him. She always did what he said."
"She did not try to run away, or find a constable, or go home?"
Aimee shook her head against the pillows. "He did not have to hold her with a lock or a door. She was so ashamed of what she'd become, even though it was not her fault. I told her to go, and it made no difference about me, but she would not. And then he sent her away. All alone, with nothing. He broke her spirit, then he tossed her out like rubbish."
For the first time since I'd entered the room, Aimee looked directly at me. Her wide brown eyes held deep and unwavering pain and unmasked fury.
"Did he send her somewhere?"
"I do not know. One morning, she was gone, and he would not tell me where, though I asked and asked. I know he must have thrown her out."
"Was she going to have a child?"
"I do not know. She would not tell me. But I think so. He thought so."
I hesitated a long time, trying to put my questions in a way that would not hurt her. "You were in the wardrobe in his study the day he died," I said. "He put you there."
"Yes."
"When?"
Her fair brows drew together. "What do you mean?"
"Did he put you in that morning, or later, after his visitor had departed?"
Aimee's body drooped. "I do not know. I have been trying to remember. But I hurt so much, and I was so tired."
"Do you remember the visitor?"
"I remember Mr. Bremer coming to the study and telling him someone had come to call. Mr. Horne was angry at him. But then he told Mr. Bremer to let the guest upstairs. I do not know who it was; Mr. Bremer spoke so softly. After Mr. Bremer left, Mr. Horne carried me to the wardrobe. I cried and begged him to let me go back to the attics so I could rest, but he pushed me in and locked the door."
"Could you hear through the door what the two gentlemen spoke about?"
"I cannot remember if I heard them or not. The doors were thick, and I was sleepy."
I decided to try another tack. "After the other gentleman left, did Mr. Horne open the wardrobe again?"
She went silent a moment, her eyes reflecting pain. "I do not believe he did, sir. I was well and truly asleep after that, and I remember nothing."
I sat back. If Horne had not opened the wardrobe again, that might mean he'd been dead when his visitor, Denis, had left him. But Horne may have simply decided to leave Aimee there, and someone else could have come to the study and killed him while she slept.