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and inform us of the date of her funeral.”
    “Do you think it proper for us to attend?” Beatrice asked.
    When no one spoke, Robert looked back and forth between his older brothers, confused. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
    “She was murdered while walking on the moor,” Beatrice said gently. “Alone.”
    Chloe paused for a moment, not immediately understanding the implication, then drew in a breath, disgusted. Ambrose was looking down at his meal, but she saw the tension in his posture.
    Robert shook his head in bewilderment. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
    “You see, we don’t know what she was doing out there,” said Dora.
    Chloe glared at Dora, then at Beatrice, but all eyes at the table were on Robert. Understanding dawned on his face, and he nodded. He glanced at his father, who looked deeply unhappy, and then Robert took a nervous sip from his water goblet.
    “I’m in complete agreement,” said Mrs. Malone. “It’s only prudent to decline to attend. We must be mindful of public opinion. Dora is yet unmarried, and we wouldn’t want to damage Mr. Baxter’s opinion of her.” She put her hand maternally on Dora’s. Dora started in shock before casting a wary glance at Mrs. Malone and nodding once in acknowledgement.
    Chloe felt her cheeks flush hot at the thought of her brilliant and vivacious friend going unmourned because she was murdered outdoors instead of dying respectably in her own bed. She took a breath to steady herself before speaking.
    “Doesn’t everyone take a walk on the moor occasionally?”
    “We do. But we aren’t assaulted when we go out,” said Mrs. Malone, fixing her with a bright blue gaze. “And we always go in daylight. She must have been involved in something dreadful to be attacked in such a way. Perhaps she was keeping company with an unsuitable person.” Her last two words were spoken with too much force and venom.
    “She and I have been in correspondence for three years and I can assure you that she was as upright a person as you would care to meet,” Chloe straightened up and Mrs. Malone’s eyes widened in shock.
    “You know nothing about it. How could you? You never even met the woman.”
    “I know enough to understand that a good woman has been murdered. It’s unthinkable to deny her a proper and fitting burial.” Chloe felt Ambrose shift uncomfortably in the chair beside her.
    “She will have a fitting and proper burial,” said Alexander. His expression was gentle and his tone soothing. “Mrs. Granger was a great favorite in our house. She was a lovely woman and we all liked her.” He looked at Mrs. Malone who leaned back in her chair, glaring. “But I implore you to understand, Mrs. Sullivan. The circumstances of her death prevent us from giving public scandal by attending. For us to be present would be to condone her behavior.”
    “But aside from walking, which Mrs. Malone admits that everyone does, what was this behavior?” Chloe kept her eyes on Alexander, knowing that to glance at Mrs. Malone would only anger her further.
    Alexander hesitated, opened his mouth and closed it again. Beatrice spoke instead.
    “She disappeared five days ago. Everyone presumed she was with another person,” said Beatrice. Another person? Camille had a paramour? Unthinkable. Chloe would not believe it. “Although a few said she had returned to her family in France.”
    Chloe’s heart sank. Poor Camille, trapped with an unkind husband. She knew from the letters that Camille was unhappy, but she had no idea that the situation was so bad. To leave her husband would create a scandal, humiliation for both her, her family and her husband. She must have been truly desperate to do such a thing. Her husband must have been a tyrant, a drunkard, or even violent. It was the only explanation that made sense. And if she had been fleeing a violent husband, then she had been forced to it.
    But why hadn’t Camille written to her for help? They were friends. She would have