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eyes, trying to steady herself. She couldn’t leap to wild conjecture. She had to be calm, not fly into a pelter, or she would never be able to think straight.
    With a concerted effort she modulated her voice into calm tones. “Think before what, Constance?”
    The girl hesitated. “Before I behaved in so abrupt a manner to the dowager,” she said at last. “But what could I do? Louisa had just ordered me to do the exact opposite of what she requested! You know what the dowager is like, Phyllida. I shall be cast out at once, with nowhere to go.”
    Phyllida caught her agitated hand. “I am certain it won’t come to that.” Had that been all the girl meant? She sincerely hoped so.
    “It will! And you, also. She will announce there is no further need for our services and that will be the end of it, for you know there is never any swaying her. Then what will become of me?” Tears hovered in her large eyes then slipped down her pale cheeks. “What am I to do, Phyllida?”
    Phyllida managed a fairly good imitation of a smile. “It’s too early to worry. I’m sure Allbury will permit us to remain until—until we can make other arrangements.”
    Constance Yarborough struggled up in the bed and Phyllida arranged pillows behind her. “What other arrangements? It’s all very well for you. You are her sister. He’s bound to make some provision for you. I was only her friend, her unpaid companion.”
    “He is a kindly man.” Phyllida caught the note of resentment and couldn’t blame the girl for it. Louisa had taken every opportunity to make her erstwhile school friend aware—and resentful—of the charity bestowed upon her. “If worse comes to worst, you can always return to Madame Griswald’s seminary.”
    The pansy-like eyes widened in horror. “After Papa ran off without paying her for my last term? Oh no, she’d never take me in.”
    “I meant, as an instructress.”
    Constance blinked. “My only ability is sketching, but I doubt I could ever teach it.”
    With that Phyllida nodded silent agreement. It had been a ridiculous suggestion on her part. What other possibilities did that leave? After a moment she tried, “A companion to some elderly lady?”
    Constance stared at her, her expression arrested. “Why not? I feel quite certain I could do that. Oh, why have I not made myself more useful to the dowager? I shall have to try harder. I know how much she likes one to run little errands for her.”
    Well why not indeed? Phyllida reflected. Constance was certainly meek enough to suit the dowager. Why shouldn’t she remain at Allbury House in exactly the position she currently occupied? Phyllida couldn’t blame her for grasping at the only security she knew.
    With a vague word of comfort, Phyllida left Miss Yarborough to rest. With luck, everything would work out for the girl. She closed the door softly and started down the hall. Constance would probably prefer being a companion to the formidable dowager. At least with her one always knew where one stood. To be honest—though it made her feel dreadfully guilty to admit it—Louisa could be cloyingly sweet to one’s face while secretly working to one’s detriment. Yes, Constance might well be lucky to exchange patronesses.
    She froze on the second step, her hand clutching the balustrade. Had that idea occurred to Constance Yarborough also? Had she borne all she could from Louisa—then murdered her? Was that why Constance had been the last to awaken from the drug? Because she had not consumed it until well after the others had succumbed to its effects?
    This was ridiculous! She gave her head a firm shake then smoothed the disarrayed blonde curls from her face. She had every right to be distressed this morning—but not to indulge in wild flights of fantasy in which she envisioned innocent young girls as murderesses.
    There were so many things to which she ought to attend this morning. She would leave the solving of Louisa’s murder to that Runner. She