Mary caught her glance.
She introduced him with a smile of affection. “My son-in-law, Baud Mclvor.” Then she turned to the younger man at her left, beyond Oonagh. He was obviously a family member; his coloring was too like the others’, his face had the same uncertainty, the shadow of humor and vulnerability in it. “My son Kenneth,” she said. “And my other son-in-law, Quinlan Fyffe.” She looked opposite to the remaining person Hester did not already know. He was also fair, but his hair was flaxen, almost silver in color, and cropped close to his head in tight curls. His face was long, his nose very straight and a trifle large for the rest of his features, his mouth small and chiseled in shape. It was a clever, meticulous face, that of a man who concealed as much as he told.
“How do you do,” Hester said punctiliously. They each replied, and conversation was stilted and sporadic while the first course was served. They inquired after her journey up from London, and she replied that it had been excellent, and thanked them for their concern.
Alastair frowned and looked across at his younger brother, who seemed to be eating with remarkable haste.
“We have plenty of time, Kenneth. The train does not leave until a quarter past nine.”
Kenneth continued eating and did not turn his head to look at Alastair. “I am not coming to the station. I shall say good-bye to Mother here.” There was a moment’s silence. Oonagh also stopped eating and turned towards him. “I am going out,” he said, his voice taking on a defiant tone.
Alastair was not satisfied. “Where are you going to, that you dine here first and cannot come to the station with us to wish Mother farewell?”
“What difference does it make if I wish to say good-bye here or at the station?” Kenneth demanded. “And I am dining here so that I can see her off properly, rather than go before dinner.” He smiled as if that were a most satisfactory answer.
Alastair pursed his lips, but said no more. Kenneth continued eating, still rapidly.
The next course was served, and while they were eating, Hester discreetly studied their faces. Kenneth was obviously intent upon his engagement, whatever it was. He looked neither right nor left, but ate steadily, and then sat with impatience plain in his face while he waited for the maid to clear his plate and the main course to be served. Twice he looked up sharply as if to speak, and Hester felt he would have asked for his portion to be served separately, ahead of the others, had he dared.
Hector ate very little, but emptied his wineglass twice. Before filling it the third time, McTeer glanced up and met Oonagh’s eyes. She shook her head minutely, and it was only because Hester was looking directly at her that she saw it at all. McTeer removed the bottle in its basket, and Hector said nothing.
Deirdra made some mention of an important dinner which was to be held and she wished to attend.
“For which, no doubt, you will need a new gown?” Alastair said dryly.
“It would be nice,” she agreed. “I only wish to do you justice, my dear. I should not like people to think that the Fiscal’s wife made do from one event to another.”
“Little chance of that,” Quinlan remarked with a smile. “You have had at least six this year… that I know of.” But there was no rancor in his voice, only amusement.
“As Fiscal’s wife, she goes to far more of those events than most of us,” Mary said soothingly. Then added, “Thank goodness,” under her breath.
Baird Mclvor looked at her with a smile. “You don’t care for civic dinners, Mother-in-law?” He spoke as if he already knew the answer, his dark face conveyed both amusement and considerable affection.
“I do not,” she agreed, her eyes bright. “A lot of people only too aware of their own importance, sitting around eating too well, and giving portentous opinions upon everything and everyone. I often have the feeling that anyone caught making a joke would be fined immediately and then dismissed.”
“You exaggerate, Mother.” Alastair shook his head. “Judge Campbell is a bit dour, his wife is more than a little self-important, Judge Ross tends to fall asleep, but most of them are well enough.”
“Mrs. Campbell?” Mary raised silver eyebrows and her expression assumed a sour severity. “Ayv’e never heeard anything layke it in all may born days!” she said in heavily affected accent. “When aye was a geerl, we didn’t…”
Eilish giggled and glanced at Hester. It was apparently something of a family joke.
“When she was a girl, her grandfather was selling fish on the Leith docks and her mother was running errands for old McVeigh,” Hector said with a twist of his lips.
“Never!” Oonagh was incredulous. “Mrs. Campbell?”
“Aye-Jeannie Robertson, as she was then,” he assured her. “Two brown pigtails down her back, she had, and holes in her boots.”
Deirdra looked at him with new appreciation. “I shall remember that, next time she looks me up and down with a sneer on her face.”
“The old man was drowned,” Hector went on, enjoying his audience. “Took a dram too much, and fell off the docks one night in December. Twenty-seven, I think it was. Yes, eighteen twenty-seven.”
Kenneth’s impatience finally overcame his caution and he told McTeer to bring his dessert ahead of the others. Mary frowned; Alastair opened his mouth as if to say something, then caught Mary’s eye and changed his mind.
Oonagh made some remark about a play that was on in the city. Quinlan agreed with her, and Baird immediately contradicted him. The matter was totally trivial, and yet Hester was startled to hear in their voices an animosity which sounded acutely personal, as if the subject were one of intense importance. She glanced at Quinlan’s face and saw his eyes hard, his lips tight as he stared across the table. Opposite him Baird was brooding, his brows drawn down, his hands clenched. He looked as if he nursed within himself some deep pain.
Eilish did not look at either of them, but down at her plate, her fork idle, food ignored.
No one else appeared to notice anything unusual.
Mary turned to Alastair. “Deirdra says they are going to reopen the Galbraith case. Is that true?”
Alastair raised his head very slowly, his face set in a hard, wary expression. “Gossip,” he said between his teeth. He looked down the table at his wife. “It is repeating such things that gives ignorant people to start speculating, and reputations are ruined. I’m sorry you did not know better than to do such a thing.”
Mary’s face darkened at the insult, but she did not speak.
The color rushed up Deirdra’s cheeks and the muscles in her throat tightened. “I mentioned it to no one outside this room,” she said angrily. “Miss Latterly is hardly going to rush out around London telling people. They’ve never heard of Galbraith! Anyway, is it true? Are they going to reopen it?”
“No, of course not,” Alastair said angrily. “There is no evidence. If there had been, I would not have dismissed it in the first place.”
“There is no new evidence?” Mary pressed.
“There is no evidence at all, old or new,” Alastair replied, meeting her gaze squarely, finality in his voice.
Kenneth rose from the table. “Excuse me. I must go, or I shall be late.” He bent over and kissed his mother lightly on the cheek. “Have a good journey, Mother, and give Griselda my love. I’ll come to meet you at the station when you get home again.” He looked across at Hester. “Goodbye, Miss Latterly. I’m happy to have made your acquaintance, and that Mother will be in such able hands. Good night.” And with a wave he went out of the room and closed the door.
“Where is he going?” Alastair said irritably. He looked around the table. “Oonagh?”
“I’ve no idea,” Oonagh said.
“A woman, I imagine,” Quinlan suggested with a shadow of a smile. “It is to be expected.”
“Well why don’t we know about her?” Alastair asked. “If he is courting her, we should know who she is!” He glared at his brother-in-law. “Do you know, Quin?”
Quinlan’s eyes widened in surprise.
“No. Certainly not! It is merely an educated guess. Maybe I am wrong. Perhaps he is gambling, or going to a theater?”
“It’s late for a theater,” Baud said quickly.
“He said he was late!” Quinlan said.
“He didn’t. He said he would be late if he waited for us to finish,” Baud contradicted him.
“It is only ten minutes before eight,” Oonagh put in. “Perhaps it is a theater close by.”
“Alone?” Alastair said doubtfully.
