shallow and cruel was no balm for the disillusion. She would prefer they were not put to the test. She did not want to see their faults.
“Pitt is discreet,” he said seriously. “He is pursuing the notion that many people borrowed money from Weems, and it is probably a debtor grown desperate who killed him.”
Her face was instantly touched with pity, and self-mockery.
“I wish it were not necessary to learn who is guilty in order to prove that it was not Sholto,” she said earnestly. “I expect it is inexcusable of me, but I cannot entirely blame someone in desperate financial straits, if Weems threatened to foreclose, and they had nowhere else to turn.” She bit her lip. “I know murder is no answer to anything, but I cannot help imagining the poor creature’s feelings.”
“So will Pitt,” Drummond said before he thought, and because he felt somewhat the same himself. If ever a victim was unmissed it was William Weems.
She looked up at him again and saw his own reaction mirrored in his eyes.
He found himself blushing.
She looked away. “Sholto is taking it very well,” she said, forcing a lightness into her voice. “If he is afraid, he masks it with a confidence that in time you will be able to learn who is responsible. The whole tragedy of Lady Anstiss’s death was so long ago, it is ridiculous it should shadow our lives today. What a grubby thing it is to be so greedy!”
He pulled a wry face at such an understatement.
“Did you know her?”
“No, not at all. It was some years before Sholto and I met.” She looked across at the window and the leaves moving in the wind and the sun. “I believe she was very beautiful, not just the usual regularity of feature and clarity of complexion which one sees very often, but a vulnerable, passionate and haunting beauty that one could not forget. I have seen a painting of her in Lord Anstiss’s home, and I admit I could not put it from my mind myself.” She turned to him with puzzlement in her gray eyes. “Not because of her tragic death, simply because her face was so individual, so full of intensity, so very unlike the traditional English lady I had expected.” She blinked. “When we speak of vulnerability I had thought to see a fragile face with fair hair, very young, very soft. She was not like that at all. She was dark, with a proud nose, high cheekbones and such a marvelous mouth. I admit, I find it dreadful to think someone who looked so alive should have taken her own life. But I had no difficulty believing she would have loved fiercely enough to die for it.”
“I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly, acutely aware it was Eleanor’s husband for whom Laura Anstiss had felt such a passion. He admired her deeply that she could speak of it with gentleness, and without a shadow of resentment. She must be very sure that Sholto Byam now loved her, whatever his foolishness, his error of judgment or his embarrassment in the past.
She looked down at the carpet and the patterns of sunlight creeping slowly across the floor.
“I have always admired Lord Anstiss for holding no grudge against Sholto.” Her voice was very quiet and low. “It would have been so easy to descend into bitterness and blame, and no one could have held him unjust for it or failed to understand. And yet after the first shock and bewilderment, it seems he never did. He allowed his grief to be untainted by hatred. I suppose he knew how dreadfully Sholto felt, and that he would have gone to any lengths to have undone his thoughtlessness.” She sighed. “But of course it was too late when he realized how violently she felt.” She bit her lip and looked up at him. “It seems Laura had never been refused anything before. No man had failed to fall under her spell, and it seemed to her as if all her power was stripped from her. She was confused and terribly hurt. Suddenly she doubted everything.”
She stopped for a moment, but he said nothing.
“It must be strange to be so lovely no one can help gazing at you,” she went on, as much to herself as to him. “I had never thought before what a doubtful blessing it is. Perhaps everyone is so spellbound by your face they fail to see the person behind it, and realize you have dreams and fears just like everyone, and that you can be every bit as lonely, as unsure of yourself, of your worth or of anyone else’s love for you.” Her voice sank even lower. “Poor Laura.”
“And poor Lord Anstiss.” Drummond meant it profoundly. “He must be a man of very great spirit to have overcome anger and bitterness and kept his friendship for Lord Byam intact. It is a quality I admire above almost any other, such a generosity of spirit, and an ability to forgive.”
“I too,” she agreed quickly, lifting her eyes again and staring at him with intense emotion. “It is beauty far greater than that of face or form, don’t you think? It is one of the qualities that brings a sweetness to everything it touches, in men or women. As long as there are such people, we can bear the men like Weems, and whichever poor soul was driven to shoot him.”
He was about to answer when he heard the sound of footsteps in the hall and low voices, then the door opened and Byam came in. At first he looked vigorous and in good heart, but when he crossed the bar of sunlight from the window Drummond could see the faint lines of tiredness around his eyes, and there was a tension in him, almost disguised but not quite. He showed no surprise at seeing Drummond; obviously the footman had forewarned him in the hallway.
Drummond rose to his feet.
“Good morning, my lord. I came to acquaint you with the progress we have made so far, and what we intend doing next.”
He nodded. “Morning, Drummond. Good of you. I appreciate it. Good morning, Eleanor, my dear.” He touched her shoulder lightly, a mere brush of the fingertips. The delicacy of the gesture, and the fact that he removed his hand, she took as a dismissal, subtle and gentle, but allowing her to know he wished to speak to Drummond alone. Possibly he believed the detail of the matter offensive to her, and unnecessary for her to hear.
She rose to her feet and with her back to her husband, but close to him, she faced Drummond.
“If you will excuse me, Mr. Drummond, I have domestic responsibilities to attend. We have guests to dine this evening, and I must go over the menu with Cook.”
“Of course.” He bowed very slightly. “I appreciate your generosity in remaining with me and giving me so much of your time.”
She smiled at him politely. It was a formal speech he had made, precisely what he would have said to anyone in the circumstances; she could not know how honestly he meant it.
“Good day, Mr. Drummond.”
“Good day, Lady Byam.”
And she turned and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Byam glanced at the empty tray, and refrained from offering any further refreshment. Drummond could see the anxiety in the tightness of his movements, the lack of ease and the way he stood, and he did not oblige him to ask what news he had come to bring.
“I am afraid most of our progress so far is merely a matter of excluding some of the more obvious possibilities,” he said without preamble.
Byam’s eyes widened a fraction; it was far less than a question, he simply waited for Drummond to continue.
“There were two lists of debtors in Weems’s office,” Drummond went on. “A long one, of very ordinary unfortunates who had borrowed fairly small sums at regular intervals and were paying back similarly. Most of the poor devils will never repay all the capital at his rate of usury, but be scraping the bottom for the rest of their lives. It is a despicable way to profit from other people’s wretchedness!” As soon as the words were said he realized they were out of place. He should not have allowed his own feelings to intrude.
But Byam’s face twisted in sympathy and harsh humor.
“He was a despicable man,” he said in a hard voice. “Blackmail is not an attractive manner in which to acquire money either. If my own life were not at stake I should not give you the slightest encouragement to find out who killed Mr. Weems, I assure you. But since it is, I am obliged to pursue the matter with all the vigor I have.”
It was an invitation, even a request, to continue more relevantly. Drummond took it.
“So far we have eliminated a great number on account of their having been in company at the time Weems was shot-”
Byam pulled a rueful face.
“I wish I could say as much. Unfortunately even my servants did not disturb me that evening.”
Drummond smiled back at him. “That is a small advantage to poverty; they live in such cramped quarters
