Summary: Wadsworth was soft, Mrs. White was strong, and everyone else was disposable. An alternate ending, in which Mrs. White was the killer, and Wadsworth (not Mr. Body), helped to cover her tracks as she disposed of the entire household. Mrs. WhiteXWadsworth.
"Why didn't you expose me to the others?" Mrs. White asked curiously, trailing her hand along the railing as she descended the stairs.
"You knew it was me all along. Why would you assist in the killings?"
"Why do you think?" Wadsworth challenged, taking a step closer to her person as she reached the bottom of the steps, his hand resting on hers at the bottom of the arm rail.
"I knew what went on with your husbands. I knew how they treated you. I was there when you discovered that Hadrian was nothing but a cheat with no money to support you, and I was there when you decided that you couldn't live with him in your life anymore, as well as the three before him."
Mrs. White swallowed as the information sunk in, and everything clicked into place.
"Wait, that means you were..."
"Your butler?" he smiled.
"Yes," he admitted. "I worked for you and your late husband for a short while. But it was long enough for me to see how he treated you."
"It made no sense, really. You were everything a wife ought to be; strong, loyal, attentive, passionate. They envied you. You were a perfect reflection of what they tried so hard to accomplish, but fell so terribly short of..."
"After the fourth marriage I figured would've discovered something of yourself," he said, eying her affectionately.
"And what's that?" she inquired, mesmerized by his speech.
"That you always sold yourself short. You always put them on the pedestal. You gave them nothing but the best, and you always expected nothing but the best in return. Eventually you had to face the hard truth; that every time, you had married beneath you,"
Mrs. White's eyes glistened as Wadsworth brought her hand to his lips.
"Go on," she told him, with a slight flush of her cheeks.
"The reason you never quite saw a marriage through, was because you've never found the right man," he continued.
"And you would be that man?" her brows raised hopefully.
"Yes, Blanche Whitfield," he smiled toothily. "I would."
