I had first become attached to Miss Harcourt in the spring following her father's death when, as a part of the local chapter of the Women's Mentor and Quilting Club of which my wife was head, the two women were introduced. My wife and Emily became closer, and began to think more and more of Emily as my own daughter, and less as the daughter of my late companion. Looking to Miss Harcourt's best interests, in her fourteenth year, to brighten her day from the dreary hours spent in the mansion with none save her Uncle or Grandmother, my wife and I began to invite her more often to our city home; in her sixteenth year, I introduced her to Mr. Rayton, son of a doctor friend of mine.
The connection was marvelous. Practical as well as pleasing to both parties, the paring seemed near perfection. Miss Harcourt became the most sociable, and the most delighted she had ever been since the death of her father, although she demurely suggested the meetings between herself and Mr. Rayton be kept secret and chaperoned by the missus or myself. Repeatedly, she insisted on privacy regarding the affair, but Mr. Rayton and I had not anticipated the outburst created when her Grandmother and Uncle discovered Emily had been seeing someone.
This occurred some months ago. Wise or foolish, I encouraged the couple to continue meeting under our chaperone. I knew not why Emily's happiness was being hindered to realms beyond even the moderate Victorian standards, nor why the chaperoned investigations into a possible pairing were being so viciously disapproved. The youth minded my encouragement and offers of protection not at all, being as youth are, but disobedience has its consequences; Mr. Rayton and I have become convinced that our actions have presently caught up with us.
We deliberated long and hard from five in the evening to midnight's stroke. Taking into account Emily's behavior changes -especially subsequent to many concerned inquiries over the long months, - the strangeness of her actions, and the peculiar silent range and possessiveness of her uncle, we came to the conclusion that something within the order of that nuclear family was seriously disturbed. Some affair of the foulest order was occurring, and yet we hadn't the foggiest idea what. One thing remained; we resolved to find out, for Emily's sake.
The sun rose and set swiftly, the blood red orb plunging behind the ashen cloud and mountains towards its violent rest. I had sent a friendly petition to the peculiarly unpleasant Mrs. Joseph Harcourt, who, despite her spying, seemed the more benign of the two guardians, on behalf of the couple and Emily's well being.
Fool that I was.
Thus, I inquired into Mrs. Joseph Harcourt's and her second son's obvious rejection of said relationship. The marriage would be profitable to both parties; difference in social status was not an issue, nor was the matter of mutual attraction or respect. As a mediator, and old friend of the late John Harcourt (at which time I thought I at least had a understanding with the elder Mrs. Harcourt), I invited them all over to dine with my wife and organize our differences. The time was set for five.
The sun fell behind the slopes of Salisbury at last, hurrying to escape the clutch of darkness grasping at its tail, and disappeared in an explosion of blood and wine.
Six o-clock came and passed, as the hours of the night fell like rain in a tempest, and passed swifter than memory recalls. Within these hours of the night, not a sound was heard from my doorstep, and no messages came.

Suicide was what they termed it when they found her, even as the autopsy revealed fine lines wrought of animalistic hatred and possession exercised on one person from another, and things of which I wish I had never heard nor seen. Only because of my association to Mr. John Harcourt was anything revealed even.
Strangulation and blood loss was cause of death.
Scotland Yard ignored it.
And suddenly, two days later, Emily's uncle, while receiving an evening drink, mistakenly received some arsenic as well.
Wonderfully enough, the woman who started it all inherited all the money, outliving both children and her grandchild, watching her children's lives turn miserable and their hearts go weak and dead. and changed her mind about Emily's cause of death being suicide.

Scotland Yard arrested me last week for Emily's murder. Within the dank confines of my cell, I write this, wondering.

How did things go so wrong?