It was now quite clear to her that, by accident or by design, it was Jack Rotherfield who caused the death of the butler. If it was an accident, why had he not told the truth about the night’s events? If it was more than that, what was the reason of his quarrel with the servant?
Certain dark suggestions did pass through her mind, but she would not encourage them. The thing was a mystery, an ugly mystery, and the ugliest part of it undoubtedly was that Lady Sarah was evidently in the confidence of the young man, and that he and she were still engaged together in practising a deception upon the lady’s husband.
Rhoda shuddered at the thought.
If Lady Sarah could deceive her trusting and indulgent husband to the extent of keeping such a secret from his ears for ten years, how was it possible to believe that she did not deceive him even farther?
The best thing to be said for the volatile beauty that her friendship with Jack Rotherfield was perfectly open, that he was constantly the guest of her husband, who certainly had no doubts of the loyalty either of his wife or of his late ward.
Why, therefore, Rhoda told herself, should she worry herself about the matter, since Sir Robert did not?
But argue as she might, she knew that there was more in the story than had become known; and while refusing to believe that even the artful Lady Sarah could go the length of wronging the man who trusted her so nobly she knew that the wife was lacking in sterling loyalty, and that, while she might be, and probably was, careful of herself and of her position, she bestowed more confidence upon Jack Rotherfield, if she did not more affection, than she gave to her own husband.
The knowledge which had come to her so suddenly that day, the conviction that she had in her hands now the clue to the mystery of the murder, made Rhoda so uneasy that she felt sure she would not be able to remain long in the household.
How could she go from husband to wife, and back again, with a light enough heart and a free conscience, when she was burdened, as she now was, with part, at least, of such an important secret?
Would Lady Sarah wish her to remain at the Mill-house? Rhoda thought not. It could not be pleasant to the proud little mistress of the house to feel that there was some one under the same roof who knew so much as Rhoda did, and she could not fail to look upon the girl as a spy, and to wonder whether she would keep to herself what she knew.