“They won't tell him anything.” Edith's brows rose in surprise.
Hester smiled. “Not intentionally, I know. But he is already engaged with the possibility that it was not Alexandra who killed the general, and certainly not for the reason she said. Edith…”
Edith stared at her, waiting, her eyes intent.
“Edith, it may be that it was Sabella after all-but is that going to be an answer that Alexandra will want? Should we be doing her any service to prove it? She has chosen to give her life to save Sabella-if indeed Sabella is guilty.” She leaned forward earnestly.”But what if it was neither of them? If Alexandra simply thinks it is Sabella and she is confessing to protect her…”
“Yes,” Edith said eageiiy. “That would be marvelous! Hester, do you think it could be true?”
“Perhaps-but then who? Louisa? Maxim Furnival?”
“Ah.” The light died out of Edith's eyes. “Honestly, I wish it could be Louisa, but I doubt it. Why should she?”
“Might she really have been having an affair with the general, and he threw her over-told her it was all finished? You said she was not a woman to take rejection lightly.”
Edith's face reflected a curious mixture of emotions: amusement in her eyes, sadness in her mouth, even a shadow of guilt.
“You never knew Thaddeus, or you wouldn't seriously think of such a thing. He was…” She hesitated, her mind reaching for ideas and framing them into words. “He was… remote. Whatever passion there was in him was private, and chilly, not something to be shared. I never saw him deeply moved by anything.”
A quick smile touched her mouth, imagination, pity and regret in it. “Except stories of heroism, loyalty and sacrifice. I remember him reading 'Sohrab and Rustum' when it was first published four years ago.” She glanced at Hester and saw her incomprehension. “It's a tragic poem by Arnold.” The smile returned, bleak and sad.”It's a complicated story; the point is they are father and son, both great military heroes, and they kill each other without knowing who they are, because they have wound up on opposite sides in a war. It's very moving.”
“And Thaddeus liked it?”
“And the stories of the great heroes of the past-ours and other people's. The Spartans combing their hair before Thermopylae-they all died, you know, three hundred of them, but they saved Greece. And Horatius on the bridge…”
“Iknow,” Hester said quickly. “Macaulay's 'Lays of Ancient Rome.' I begin to understand. There were the passions he could identify with: honor, duty, courage, loyalty-not bad things. I'm sorry…”
Edith gave her a look of sudden warmth. It was the first time they had spoken of Thaddeus as a person they could care about rather than merely as the center of a tragedy. “But I think he was a man of thought rather than feeling,” she went on, returning to the business of it. “Usually he was very controlled, very civilized. I suppose in some ways he was not unlike Mama. He had an absolute commitment to what is right, and I never knew him to step outside it-in his speech or his acts.”
She screwed up her face and shook her head a little. “If he had some secret passion for Louisa he hid it completely, and honestly I cannot imagine him so involved in it as to indulge himself in what he would consider a betrayal, not so much of Alexandra as of himself. You.see, to him adultery would be wrong, against the sanctity of home and the values by which he lived. None of his heroes would do such a thing. It would be unimaginable.”
She lifted her shoulders high in an exaggerated shrug. “But suppose if he had, and then grown tired of her, or had an attack of conscience. I really believe that Louisa-whom I don't much care for, but I must be honest, I think is quite clever enough to have seen it coming long before he said anything-would have preempted him by leaving him herself. She would choose to be the one to end it; she would never allow him to.”
“But if she loved him?” Hester pressed. “And some women do love the unattainable with a passion they never achieve for what is in their reach. Might she not be reluctant to believe he would never respond-and care so much she would rather kill him than…”
Edith laughed jerkily. “Oh Hester. Don't be absurd! What a romantic you are. You live in a world of grand passions, undying love and devotion, and burning jealousy. Neither of them were remotely like that. Thaddeus was heroic, but he was also pompous, stuffy, very rigid in his views, and cold to talk to. One cannot always be reading epic poetry, you know. Most of the time he was a guarded, ungiving man. And Louisa is passionate only about herself. She likes to be loved, admired, envied-especially envied-and to be comfortable, to be the center of everyone's attention. She would never put involvement with anyone else before her own self-image. Added to that, she dresses gorgeously, parades around and flirts with her eyes, but Maxim is very proper about morality, you know? And he has the money. If Louisa went too far he wouldn't stand for it.” She bit her soft lower lip. “He loved Alex very much, you know, but he denied himself anything with her. He wouldn't let Louisa play fast and loose now.”
Hester watched Edith's face carefully; she did not wish to hurt, but the thoughts were high in her mind. “But Thaddeus had money surely? If Louisa married him, she wouldn't need Maxim's money?”
Edith laughed outright.”Don't be absurd! She'd be ruined if Maxim divorced her-and Thaddeus certainly wouldn't get involved in anything like that. The scandal would ruin him too.”
“Yes, I suppose it would,” Hester agreed sensibly. She sat silently for several minutes, thoughts churning around in her head.
“I hate even to think of this at all,” Hester said with a shudder of memory. “But what if it were someone else altogether? Not any one of the guests, but one of the servants? Did he go to the Furnivals' house often?”
“Yes, I believe so, but why on earth should a servant want to kill him? That's too unlikely. I know you want to find something-but…”
“I don't know. Something in the past? He was a general- he must have made both friends and enemies. Perhaps the motive for his death lies in his career, and is nothing to do with his personal life.”
Edith's face lit up. “Oh Hester. That's brilliant of you! You mean some incident on the battlefield, or in the barracks, that has at long last been revenged? We must find out all we can about the Furnivals' servants. You must tell him-Monk, did you say? Yes, Mr. Monk. You must tell him what we have thought of, and set him about it immediately!”
Hester smiled at the thought of so instructing Monk, but she acquiesced, and before Edith could continue with her ideas, the maid came to announce that luncheon was served and they were expected at table.
Apparently Edith had already informed the family that Hester was expected. No remarks were passed on her presence, except a cool acknowledgment of her arrival and an invitation to be seated at the specified place, and a rather perfunctory wish that she should enjoy her meal.
She thanked Felicia and took her seat otherwise in silence.
“I imagine you have seen the newspapers?” Randolph said, glancing around the table. He looked even wearier today than the last time Hester had seen him, but certainly had Monk asked her now if she thought him senile, she would have denied it without doubt. There was an angry intelligence in his eyes, and any querulousness around his mouth or droop to his features was set there by character as much as the mere passage of time.
“Naturally I have seen the headlines,” Felicia said sharply. “I do not care for the rest. There is nothing we can do about it, but we do not have to discuss this with one another. It is like all evil speaking and distasteful speculation: one sets one's mind against it and refuses to be distressed. Would you be so good as to pass me the condiments, Peverell?”
Peverell did as he was bidden, and smiled from the corner of his vision at Hester. There was the same gentleness in his eyes, a mild awareness of humor, as she had observed before. He was an ordinary man-and yet far from ordinary. She could not imagine that Damaris had entertained romantic notions about Maxim Furnival; she was not foolish enough to destroy what she had for a cheap moment of entertainment. For all her flamboyance, she was not a stupid or shallow woman.
“I have not seen the newspapers,” Edith said suddenly, looking at her mother.
“Of course you haven't.” Felicia stared at her with wide eyes. “Nor shall you.”
“What are they saying of Alexandra?” Edith persisted, apparently deaf to the warning note in Felicia's voice.
“Precisely what you would expect,” Felicia answered. “Ignore it.”
“You say that as if we could.” Damaris's tone was sharp, almost an accusation. “Don't think about it, and it is of no importance. Just like that-it is dealt with.”
“You have a great deal yet to learn, my dear,” Felicia said with chill, looking at her daughter in something close
