him?”
“No, you are the first.”
She seemed about to comment on that, then changed her mind. Her glance wandered away and she stared into the distance as if visualizing hi her mind.
“Thaddeus-that is, the general-seemed as usual.” A tiny smile flickered over her mouth, full of meaning and amusement. He noticed it, and thought it betrayed more of her than of the general or their relationship. “He was a very masculine man, very much the soldier. He had seen some very interesting action, you know?” This time she did look at Monk, her eyebrows high, her face full of vitality. “He spoke to me about it sometimes. We were friends, you know? Yes, I daresay you do. Alexandra was jealous, but she had no cause. I mean, it was not in the least improper.” She hesitated for only an instant. She was far too sophisticated to wait for the obvious compliment, and he did not pay it, but it entered his mind. If General Carlyon had not entertained a few improper ideas about Louisa Furnival, then he was a very slow-blooded man indeed.
“But Alexandra seemed in something of an ill temper right from the beginning,” she went on.”She did not smile at all, except briefly as was required by civility, and she avoided speaking to Thaddeus altogether. To tell you the truth, Mr. Monk, it strained my abilities as a hostess to keep the occasion from becoming embarrassing for my other guests. A family quarrel is a very ugly thing to have to witness and makes people most uncomfortable. I gather this one must have been very bitter, because all evening Alexandra was holding hi an anger which no observant person could miss.”
“But one-sided, you say?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“One-sided,” he repeated. “According to you, the general was not angry with Mrs. Carlyon; he behaved as normal.”
“Yes-that is true,” she acknowledged with something like surprise. “Perhaps he had forbidden her something, or made a decision she did not like, and she was still smarting over it. But that is hardly reason to kill anyone, is it?”
“What would be reason to kill, Mrs. Furnival?”
She drew in her breath quickly, then shot him a bright, sharp smile.
“What unexpected things you say, Mr. Monk! I have no idea. I have never thought of killing anyone. That is not how I fight my battles.”
He met her eyes without a flicker. “How do you fight them, Mrs. Furnival?”
This time the smile was wider. “Discreetly, Mr. Monk, and without forewarning people.”
“And do you win?”
“Yes I do.” Too late she wished to take it back. “Well, usually,” she amended. “Of course if I did not, I should not…” She tailed off, realizing that to justify herself would be clumsy. He had not accused her; in fact he had not even allowed the thought to come through his words. She had raised it herself.
She continued with the story, looking up at the far wall again.”Then we all went in to dinner. Sabella was still making occasional bitter remarks, Damaris Erskine was behaving appallingly to poor Maxim, and Alex spoke to everyone except Thaddeus-oh, and very little to me. She seemed to feel I was on his side, which was foolish. Of course I was on no one's side, I was simply doing my duty as hostess.”
“And after dinner?”
“Oh, as usual the gentlemen stayed at the table for port, and we went to the withdrawing room where we sat arid gossiped for a while.” She lifted her beautiful shoulders in an expression of both humor and boredom. “Sabella went upstairs, as I recall, something about a headache. She has not been entirely well since the birth of her child.”
“Did you gossip about anything in particular?”
“I really cannot remember. It was rather difficult, as I said. Damaris Erskine had been behaving like a complete fool all evening. I have no idea why. Usually she is quite a sensible woman, but that evening she seemed on the point of hysteria ever since just before dinner. I don't know if she had quarreled with her husband, or something. They are very close, and she did seem to be avoiding him on this occasion, which is unusual. I really wondered once or twice if she had had rather too much wine before she came. I can't think what else would account for her manner, or why poor Maxim should be the principal victim. She is rather eccentric, but this was really too much!”
“I'll enquire into it,” he remarked. “Then what happened? At some point the general must have left the room.”
“Yes he did. I took him up to see my son, Valentine, who was at home because he has just recovered from the measles, poor boy. They were very fond of each other, you know. Thaddeus has always taken an interest in him, and of course Valentine, like any boy looking towards manhood, has a great admiration for the military and exploration and foreign travel.” She looked at him very directly. “He loved to hear Thaddeus's tales of India and the Far East. I am afraid my husband does not go in very much for that sort of thing.”
“You took General Carlyon upstairs to see your son. Did you remain with him?”
“No. My husband came up to find me, because the party needed some considerable management. As I said before, several people were behaving badly. Fenton Pole and Mrs. Hargrave were struggling to keep some sort of civilized conversation going. At least that is what Maxim said.”
“So you came down, leaving the general with Valentine?”
“Yes, that's right.” Her face tightened. “That is the last time I saw him.”
“And your husband?”
She shifted her position very slightly, but still stood against the rich swath of the curtain.
“He stayed upstairs. And almost as soon as I got back down here again, Alexandra went up. She looked furious, white-faced and so tense I thought she was intending to have a terrible quarrel, but there was nothing any of us could do to stop her. I didn't know what it was about-and I still don't.”
He looked at her without any humor at all, directly and blankly.
“Mrs. Carlyon said she killed him because he was having an affair with you, and everyone knew it.”
Her eyes widened and she looked at him with complete incredulity, as if he had said something absurd, so ridiculous as to be runny rather than offensive.
“Oh really! That is too foolish! She couldn't possibly believe such a thing! It is not only untrue, it is not even remotely credible. We have been agreeable friends, no more. Nor would it ever have appeared to anyone that we were more-I assure you, no one else thought so. Ask them! I am an amusing and entertaining woman, I hope, and capable of friendship, but I am not irresponsible.”
He smiled, still refusing to pay the implicit compliment, except with his eyes. “Can you think of any reason why Mrs. Carlyon would believe it?”
“No-none at all. None that are sane.” She smiled at him, her eyes bright and steady. They were hazel after all. “Really, Mr. Monk, I think there must be some other reason for whatever she did-some quarrel we know nothing of. And honestly, I cannot see why it matters. If she killed him, and it seems inescapable that she did, then what difference does it make why?”
“It might make a difference to the judge, when he comes to sentence her, if and when she is convicted,” he replied, watching her face for pity, anger, grief, any emotions he could read. He saw nothing but cool intelligence.
“I am not familiar with the law, except the obvious.” She smiled. “I would have thought they would hang her regardless.”
“Indeed they may,” he conceded. “You left the story with your husband and the general upstairs, and Mrs. Carlyon just going up. What happened then?”
“Maxim came down, and then a little later, maybe ten minutes, Alexandra came down, looking dreadful. Shortly after that Maxim went out into the front hall-we had all used the back stairs as it is quicker to go up to Valentine's rooms that way-and almost immediately he came back to say Thaddeus had had an accident and was seriously hurt. Charles-that is, Dr. Hargrave, went to see if he could help.
He came back after the briefest time to say Thaddeus was dead and we should call the police.”
“Which you did?”
“Of course. A Sergeant Evan came, and they asked us all sorts of questions. It was the worst night I can ever remember.”
