motionless. Edith watched them all.
But Peverell was not disconcerted. He had obviously foreseen both the question and his answer to it. Her reaction could not have surprised him.
“I am sure Alexandra will discuss with you everything that is of family concern,” he went on as if nothing had happened.
“It is all of family concern, Peverell!” Felicia said with a tight, hard voice. “The police are involved. Ridiculous as that seems, someone in that wretched house killed Thad-deus. I assume it was Maxim Furnival. I never cared for him. I always thought he lacked self-control, in a finer sense. He paid far too much attention to Alexandra, and she had not the sense to discourage him! I sometimes thought he imagined himself in love with her-whatever that may mean to such a man.”
“I never saw him do anything undignified or hasty,” Damaris said quickly. “He was merely fond of her.”
“Be quiet, Damaris,” her mother ordered. “You do not know what you are talking about. I am referring to his nature, not his acts-until now, of course.”
“We don't know that he has done anything now,” Edith joined in reasonably.
“He married that Warburton woman; that was a lapse of taste and judgment if ever I saw one,” Felicia snapped. “ Emotional, uncontrolled.”
“Louisa?” Edith asked, looking at Damaris, who nodded.
“Well?” Felicia turned to Peverell. “What are the police doing? When are they going to arrest him?”
“I have no idea.”
Before she could respond the door opened and the butler came in looking extremely grave and not a little embarrassed, and carrying a note on a silver tray. He presented it not to Randolph but to Felicia. Possibly Randolph's eyesight was no longer good.
“Miss Alexandra's footman brought it, ma'am,” he said very quietly.
“Indeed.” She picked it up without speaking and read it through. The very last trace of color fled from her skin, leaving her rigid and waxy pale.
“There will be no reply,” she said huskily. “You may go.”
“Yes ma'am.” He departed obediently, closing the door behind him.
“The police have arrested Alexandra for the murder of Thaddeus,” Felicia said with a level, icily controlled voice, as soon as he was gone. “Apparently she has confessed.”
Damaris started to say something and choked on her words. Immediately Peverell put his hand over hers and held it hard.
Randolph stared uncomprehendingly, his eyes wide.
“No!” Edith protested. “That's-that's impossible! Not Alex!”
Felicia rose to her feet. “There is no purpose in denying it, Edith. Apparently it is so. She has admitted it.” She squared her shoulders. “Peverell, we would be obliged if you would take care of the matter. It seems she has taken leave of her senses, and in a fit of madness become homicidal. Perhaps it can be dealt with privately, since she does not contest the issue.”
Her voice gained confidence. “She can be put away in a suitable asylum. We shall have Cassian here, naturally, poor child. I shall fetch him myself. I imagine that will have to be done tonight. He cannot remain in that house without family.” She reached for the bell, then turned to Hester. “Miss Latterly, you have been privy to our family tragedy. You will surely appreciate that we are no longer in a position to entertain even the closest friends and sympathisers. Thank you for calling. Edith will show you to the door and bid you goodbye.”
Hester stood up. “Of course. I am most extremely sorry.”
Felicia acknowledged her words with a look but no more. There was nothing to add. All that was possible now was to excuse herself to Randolph, Peverell and Damaris, and leave.
As soon as they were in the hall Edith clasped her arm.
“Dear God, this is terrible! We have to do something!”
Hester stopped and faced her. “What? I think your mother's answer may be the best. If she has lost her mind and become violent-”
“Rubbish!” Edith exploded fiercely. “Alex is not mad. If anyone in the family killed him, it will be their daughter Sabella. She really is… very strange. After the birth of her child she threatened to take her own life. Oh-there isn't time to tell you now, but believe me there is a long story about Sabella.” She was holding Hester so hard there was little choice but to stay. “She hated Thaddeus,” Edith went on urgently. “She didn't want to marry; she wanted to become a nun, of all things. But Thaddeus would not hear of it. She hated him for making her marry, and still does. Poor Alex will have confessed to save her. We’ve got to do something to help. Can't you think of anything?”
“Well…” Hester's mind raced. “Well, I do know a private sort of policeman who works for people-but if she has confessed, she will be tried, you know. I know a brilliant lawyer. But Peverell…”
“No,” Edith said quickly. “He is a solicitor, not a barrister-he doesn't appear in court. He won't mind, I swear. He would want the best for Alex. Sometimes he appears to do whatever Mama says, but he doesn't really. He just smiles and goes his own way. Please, Hester, if there is anything you can do…?”
“I will,” Hester promised, clasping Edith's hand. “I will try!”
“Thank you. Now you must go before anyone else comes out and finds us here-please!”
“Of course. Keep heart.”
“I will-and thank you again.”
Quickly Hester turned and accepted her cloak from the waiting maid and went to the door, her mind racing, her thoughts in turmoil, and the face of Oliver Rathbone sharp in her mind.
Chapter 2
As soon as Hester returned, Major Tiplady, who had had little to do but stare out of the window, observed from her face that something distressing had happened, and since it would soon be public knowledge in the newspapers, she did not feel she was betraying any trust by telling him. He was very aware that she had experienced something extraordinary, and to keep it secret would close him out to no purpose. It would also make it far harder to explain why she wished for yet further time away from the house.
“Oh dear,” he said as soon as she told him. He sat very upright on the chaise longue. “This is quite dreadful! Do you believe that something has turned the poor woman's mind?”
“Which woman?” She tidied away his tea tray, which the maid had not yet collected, setting it on the small table to the side. “The widow or the daughter?”
“Why-” Then he realized the pertinence of the question. “I don't know. Either of them, I suppose-or even both. Poor creatures.” He looked at her anxiously. “What do you propose to do? I cannot see anything to be done, but you seem to have something in mind.”
She flashed him a quick, uncertain smile.”I am not sure.” She closed the book he had been reading and put it on the table next to him. “I can at least do my best to find her the very best lawyer-which she will be able to afford.” She tucked his shoes neatly under the chaise.
“Will her family not do that anyway?” he asked. “Oh, for heaven's sake sit down, woman! How can anyone concentrate their thoughts when you keep moving around and fussing?”
She stopped abruptly and turned to look at him.
With unusual perception he frowned at her. “You do not need to be endlessly doing something in order to justify your position. If you humor me, that will be quite sufficient. Now I require you to stand still and answer me sensibly-if you please.,”
“Her family would like her put away with as little fuss as possible,” she replied, standing in front of him with her hands folded. “It will cause the least scandal that may be achieved after a murder.”
“I imagine they would have blamed someone else if they could,” he said thoughtfully.”But she has rather spoiled that by confessing. But I still do not see what you can do, my dear.”
“I know a lawyer who can do the miraculous with causes which seem beyond hope.”
“Indeed?” He was dubious, sitting upright and looking a little uncomfortable. “And you believe he will take this case?”
