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you think he is. Why am I the only one who understands that?” She grabbed his shoulder
desperately, peering frighteningly into his eyes. “Willie, Papa is a horrid man. Do you have any
idea how he treats others, especially Mama? He is cruel and heartless, and I cannot believe you
cannot see that like I do.”
Lucifer stared at Grace with some alarm and distress at her words and the way in
which she had spoken to him, but his brow furrowed in innocent wonder at her obvious dislike of
Roth. Beholding his expression, Grace sighed and became contrite.
“Willie, you must know who Papa truly is. But don’t worry; I will soon be
revealing that to everyone.” She paused to smile shrewdly before looking at Lucifer with curious
eyes. “Papa drinks wine more than anything else, right?”
The lad’s frown went deeper as he squinted in thought. “Yes,” he said slowly.
Grace grinned at him, grasping his hand. “Thank you, Willie. I will see you later.”
With that she galloped ahead of him and into the mansion.
September 1797
Clara bent to take the dinner rolls out of the kitchen stove one cool evening. After
setting the tray of bread down, she cleared her hands on her apron before catching sight of a
figure by the doorway. She turned and saw Grace. That child, now fourteen years old, had grown
to appear like Anne, with her long, yellow hair, her flawless, pale skin and features that were
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almost all exact to her mother’s. Clara smiled at her.
“How are you, Grace, dear?”
Grace smiled back at her, though her eyes appeared occupied with an idea and her
eyes were alight with determination. She stepped into the kitchen.
“Clara, I wanted to ask you about Papa’s habits. Can you tell me what he does
regularly?”
The woman frowned. “His habits?” She folded her hands comfortably before her.
“Well, I know that he wakes at six or seven o’clock and has his breakfast before going out to
walk a bit around the property…”
“What?” Grace hastily intruded. “Why does he do this?”
“I suppose because he likes to assure himself that nothing unusual happened in
the stables or pasturelands during the night. After he does this he goes on a brief horse ride, and
when he returns he will usually spend time with Henry and Willie or settle down to read or
study.”
“All right, Clara, thank you. That was all I needed to know.” Her eyebrows knit
together. “He drinks wine quite often, doesn’t he?”
“Why, yes, I suppose that he does,” she said as the realization dawned on her.
“Even for breakfast?”
Clara thought for a bit before chuckling. “Yes, I believe that he does. I wonder
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why for that meal.”
Grace scowled at this discovery before glancing at Clara with a grateful
expression. “Thank you very much, Clara; you’ve been very helpful to me.”
“It’s no trouble.” She looked at Grace closely. “If you don’t mind me asking,
dear, why do you wish to know these things?”
The child paused briefly before turning to look at the woman again, her face
displaying wonder and innocence. “I was simply curious. I mean, through the past few weeks I
have become interested in observing others’ behavioral patterns and habits.”
“Well, that’s fine, Grace,” Clara replied enthusiastically. “It’s good to come by
another recreational activity. I hope that you enjoy yourself.”
“I have been.” Grace smiled once more. “Thank you again.” She turned and
walked out of the kitchen, an artful smile strung across her lips.
December 1798
Grace galloped down to the stable yards, where the carriage had just rolled into. A
servant opened the cab of the vehicle and Henry stepped out, appearing quite handsome with his
black breeches and burgundy frockcoat under his seasonal coat. Grace smiled when she saw him,
irritably pulling her woolen shawl over her shoulders as she ran.
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“Henry!” she yelled to him excitedly before enveloping him in a large embrace.
“Oh, Henry, I’m so glad you’re back!”
The young man frowned and chuckled before untying his sister’s arms from
himself. “What are you talking about, Grace? I was only gone for a day.”
“I know, but I am glad to see you nevertheless,” the girl chirped. “How was
Bristol? What did you do there? Did you have a good time?”
He laughed at her giddiness, turning to receive his cane. “It was fine, and I went
there for a horse sale, remember? Why are you so spirited today?”
Grace shrugged, looking at him innocently. “I don’t know. Perhaps because it will
soon be Christmas.”
Henry chuckled before beginning to make his way toward the mansion. “Yes, I
suppose that’s a good reason to be happy. Now, what have you been occupied with today?”
“Not very much,” she replied, walking alongside him. “I read this afternoon
before going riding, and then I went to my bedroom and slept a bit.”
He frowned again. “It’s not like you to get additional sleep like that, in the middle
of the day.”
“I know, but I was tired after reading the entire night through.”
Henry stopped, looking at her sharply. “And why were you awake reading for the
whole night? I never knew you to take your studies in such a serious way.”
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“Oh, I wasn’t reading for my lessons. I was reading about topics that I have
recently become interested in, and I was so interested that it was difficult for me to stop.”
“And just what are these topics, Grace?” He narrowed his eyes at her, his gaze
curious yet authoritative. “They must be very delicious to attract you so that you cannot put the
books aside. Do tell me; I would like to know.”
Grace stared back at him for a couple of moments before glowering. “It’s not your
affair. When you read something I don’t ask what it is, and even if I did you would probably just
tell me to leave you in peace. Don’t spoil my happiness of your return by dwelling on this
subject, all right? I really am glad to see you, Henry. You should know that I was lonely today.”
Henry appeared hesitant before deciding to forget about the matter. He smiled.
“Very well, Grace; let us toss the matter aside. Anyway, I am glad that you have found enjoyable
material to read; that is good to hear. I hope that you learn many useful things from it.”
“Yes, I already have.” She glanced at him quickly as they continued walking.
“Henry, I was wondering: do you drink?”
He thought for a moment before chuckling. “I have tasted wine a couple of times
in the past, but I’ve found that I don’t especially like it. I’ve actually never tried anything else.”
Grace’s face became serious. “Papa drinks often, doesn’t he?”
Henry looked at her, his expression now baffled and suspicious. “Grace, you
know that he does. Why do you speak in such a somber tone?”
The girl chuckled suddenly, grinning at him warmly. “Oh, I had just forgotten,
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that’s all. How often does he drink during the day?”
Henry continued staring at her strangely, his steps slowing. “What on earth makes
you ask such a peculiar question?”
“I was simply curious.”
“Well, it is certainly a strange thing to be curious about!”
Grace looked at him with some frustration and impatience. “Come now, Henry. It
can’t be that weird, can it? I’m only wondering. What’s wrong with that?”
“Absolutely nothing, Grace. Fine, never mind-I’ll tell you. He drinks wine about
five or six times a day, I believe.”
Grace looked disgusted. “Why so often?”
“Because he likes it, I guess. For what other reason do people consume the exact
product continuously?”
She smiled. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. At what time in the day does he drink
for the last time?”
“At eleven o’clock, I believe-right before he goes to bed.”
Grace smiled, turning her face slightly away from Henry. That would be perfect,
she thought joyously. Now I just need to know one more detail. She looked at her brother again.
“Papa always drinks his wine in his study, doesn’t he?”
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“Not his nightly drink. He has that in his room, by his bedside.”
Becoming anxious at this, Grace suddenly looked at him again. “Mama doesn’t
drink, does she?”
He knit his eyebrows together. “No, she does not. At the very least, I have never
seen her in the act.”
Grace relaxed, smiling. “All right, then. Thank you, Henry.”
“Please remind me why you are asking these incessant questions, Grace.”
“Well, did you not know that I am interested in observing people’s habits and
behaviors?”
He looked at her closely. “And those are the topics that you read throughout last
night?”
“Yes, they are.”
He stopped walking, looking at her with indignant bemusement, crossing his
arms. “Well, then, why didn’t you tell me that before?”
“I don’t know! What does it matter? I felt very isolated today and I waited and
waited for you to return.” She squeezed his arm affectionately. “I’m so glad you’re here now.
You must tell me all about Bristol, brother.”
Henry’s stern gaze on his sister eventually melted and he chuckled, walking
forward again. “Very well, Grace.”
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He proceeded to tell Grace about his trip to the city, the horse sale and what else
he saw and did, but she listened only half-heartedly, her young heart reveling in the joy of her
successful planning and the prospect of what she was going to do.
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29 A Crime of Passion
July 1799
Her face willful and serious, Grace stepped out of the mansion, looking for her
father. She saw him near the large gate to the estate, speaking with a servant, and she hurried
down to him. When she arrived, the servant turned away and Roth looked down at her with
surprised bafflement, though his eyes were hateful.
“Well, Grace, what is it? I thought that you hated me. Wait, if this is about my
treatment of your mother, then…”
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“Oh, no, Papa, that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about at all!” the girl said
suddenly, her expression filled with joy, love and excitement. “I know that I once said that I
wished I didn’t know you and that I hated you, but you must understand that I only said those
things because I was a foolish child. The truth is that I really do love you, and I would like to be
able to spend more time with you, if that is all right.”
Roth raised his eyebrows, taken aback, but then he smiled pleasingly. “Well, I’m
very glad that you’ve experienced a change of opinion of me. And you can spend time with me,
if you would like.”
“Oh, Papa, that’s great!” She clutched his arm fervently. “I would enjoy spending
my time with you immensely!”
“Yes, that’s fine,” the man replied dryly, drawing his arm out of her grasp. “I
must go now; I have work to see to.”
“Wait a moment, please, Papa,” Grace said as he turned away from her. “I should
love to go with you the next time you make a trip to Bath, if I may.”
He paused, his expression blank before looking at her a moment later. “Yes, I
guess you could.”
“How wonderful, Papa, thank you! When do you think you will go again?”
He thought. “Next week I was going to go.”
“Oh, great! I can’t wait!” She pranced to him to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m going
to have a grand time with you, I know it!” Turning abruptly, she ran back to the mansion, her
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face lit with satisfaction and triumph.
Grace crept into her parents’ bedroom, her heart pounding with eagerness and
excitement. The clock almost read the eleventh hour, and while Anne already slept peacefully in
her bed, Roth was downstairs in his study, reading. Grace knew that he would soon retire to his
bedroom for the night and it was essential for her to be quick and efficient in what she was about
to do so that he would not catch sight of her.
She hurried to the bedside, where upon a cabinet sat a container of wine and a
glass that was nearly full with the drink. Smiling malevolently, she raised her hand, where a case
of Prussic acid had been clutched tightly-the reason for her show of love toward Roth, which had
convinced him to let her accompany him to Bath. She had purchased the poison from an
apothecary with no trouble and had carefully hid it whilst riding back to the estate with her
father. Wasting no time now, Grace took the cover off of the mortal liquid and poured a couple
of drops into the glass of wine. Closing the case again, her eyes drifted to her oblivious mother
and she smiled lovingly.
“There you are, Mama,” she whispered. “Now Papa can never hurt you, ever
again.” She glanced anxiously at the doorway before turning and stepping gingerly toward it, the
poison still clasped in her hand.
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Anne tiredly made her way downstairs the following morning and into the dining room,
where she sat down at the table. Hope then came in from the kitchen, smiling when she saw her
friend and striding toward her.
“Good morning, Anne. How are you today?”
Anne smiled gently. “Quite fine, Hope, thank you. Could I please have a cup of
tea?”
“Absolutely, dear.” She went back to the kitchen, speaking over her shoulder. “I
have to wonder how the weather is going to be today. I do hope that it’s not too stifling. I have
had enough of this summer’s muggy atmosphere.”
Anne nodded. “As have I. I daresay it does become a bit overwhelming after a
while.”
The women heard humming and presently Henry came into the room, fully
dressed.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said, kissing her before seating himself at the table
as well.
“Hello, Henry,” she returned, taking hold of his hand. “Did you have a good night
of sleep?”
“It was all right, I guess, but for the last few nights it has been dreadfully warm. I
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have been perspiring greatly under the bedcovers.”
“So have I. I do hope the weather cools soon.” She looked in the direction that
Henry had come. “Is Willie coming? For the last couple of mornings he has closely followed you
here.”
“That was upon my suggestion. I told him to stop being independent and begin to
have breakfast with his family, like he should. And yes, I saw him come out of his room right
after I did.”
Several moments later Lucifer arrived at the dining room. His eyes grew slightly
large when he saw his mother and brother seated in there, as he was still becoming accustomed
to eating his morning meal with others, but he calmed a bit and smiled slightly when Anne
grinned warmly at him upon his arrival.
“Good morning, Willie, dear. How was your night of sleep?”
The young man moistened his lips nervously before slowly walking to the table.
“Quite well, thank you.”
“Well, I am glad to hear it.”
Henry frowned as he accepted a cup of tea from Hope. “I would have thought that
Father would be here by now. Do you know if he wanted to sleep past his usual waking time,
Mother?”
Anne sipped her tea, frowning. “I’m not certain if he planned to or not, but he was
asleep when I came down here.”
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“How strange. It isn’t like him to attain additional sleep like this.”
Anne chuckled, beginning to eat a scone that Hope had just placed before her.
“Well, perhaps the work that he’s been occupied with has tired him greatly.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Even still…”
Grace entered the room then, appearing cheerful and happy. “Hello, Henry. Hello,
Willie.” She looked at Anne, her gaze softening as the happiness welled in her eyes. “Hello,
Mama.”
Anne stopped eating and folded her hands on her lap, smiling only a bit at Grace’s
salutation while looking away, her face pale.
Hope entered the room again and saw Grace. “Good morning, Grace. How are
you this morning?”
“Oh, just fine, Hope,” she responded as she sat at the table by her brothers.
“Could I please have a couple of scones right away?”
“Certainly, dear. You must be hungry this morning, hm?”
“Yes, I am quite hungry.”
“Is there anything else that you would like?”
“Perhaps a couple of eggs, with honey for the scones.”
“Very well,” Hope said before going into the kitchen again.
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Suddenly they all heard rapid footsteps on the stairs and then the floor and Anne,
Lucifer and Henry especially became alarmed as a white Clara showed herself at the doorway of
the room. Her expression was stricken and her eyes dilated with horror as she stared at everyone
present.
“Anne…Henry…Roth, your husband, is dead! Roth is dead! He’s dead! ”
Hope dropped the tray of food that she had been holding, Anne gasped, Lucifer
stared incredulously yet painfully at Clara and Henry gaped as shock and disbelief filled his
countenance. Grace was the only calm one as she sat where she was with her arms crossed upon
the table, smiling with joyous fulfillment. Leaping to his feet, Henry strode toward Clara,
stopping immediately before her.
“Dead? No, Clara, you must be wrong. How are you even sure of this? You must
be mistaken!”
The woman shook her head quickly, her face becoming even paler. “N-no,
sir…I’m sorry, terribly sorry! I…went into the bedroom to open the curtains and…and I saw him
lying there, appearing…”
She staggered and Hope immediately went to take hold of her and lead her to the
table to sit down. As she went to get some water, Clara covered her face with her pallid hands
and inhaled deeply before speaking again.
“I saw Roth lying on the bed. He wasn’t breathing. I’m…” She turned her head to
look at everyone present. “I’m very, very sorry!”
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Henry gritted his teeth and ran a hand over his hair, his expression becoming
angry and distraught. “All right. So what happened? How could this be?” He glanced at the
others restlessly.
After giving Clara a glass of water, Hope quickly went to the place where she had
involuntarily dropped the tray and knelt to pick it up and clean the disorder. She had received the
news of her dead master with great shock and bewilderment, but as her mind adapted to the truth,
she felt a bit satisfied in knowing that the horrid man could never again abuse Anne or anyone
else. Her heart extended compassionately toward Henry and Lucifer, however, for they had lost a
father whom they had admired and loved.
Anne had likewise been terribly shocked when she had heard of her husband’s
death, as upon hearing of it her hand had covered her mouth and she had become petrified, and
remained in that state long after Hope had seated Clara at the table. As she realized what had
really happened to Roth, she realized also that she felt no grief or pain whatsoever with his
dying. Her mind swept through the memories of all that he had ever done to her, and aside from
surprise, she knew nothing but relief that increased with every passing moment. Had she
possessed her old nature, she would have laughed with crazy pleasure and satisfaction at his
death, but his mistreatments of her had softened her and she now felt like entertaining additional,
positive emotions to relief was wrong where the death of Roth was concerned.
Lucifer now sat wretchedly in his chair. His expression appeared frightened and
saddened, and grief was already tearing his heart apart as he struggled not to burst into tears or
run out of the room. His view of his father had been wholly innocent and he could not
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comprehend how or why Roth had met his death so unexpectedly. He needed to know how and
why he had died, and this desire was what kept him composed and sitting quietly where he was.
Henry was the only one who was openly upset. As the moments passed his shock
subsided and pure fury and anguish completely filled his expression. Tears were already filling
his eyes as his restlessness and suspense grew and he began to walk back and forth near the
table. He was quite unaware of Grace, who was sitting easily in her chair with a joyful and
satisfied smile hanging upon her lips. She felt as if someone had placed upon her head a crown
of limitless happiness.