“Mum said we were not to let anyone in while she’s gone.” He started to close the door, but just then a loud wail from inside the house turned his head.
“That sounds as if your sister has hurt herself.” Elizabeth pushed open the door again and purposefully stepped over the threshold.
Tommy looked as if he would try to stop her, but Katie wailed again and, giving up, he dashed up the hallway and disappeared through a door. Seconds later he reappeared, carrying a sobbing Katie in his arms.
“She fell and bumped her head,” he muttered.
Leaving the door open, Elizabeth hurried forward. “Let me look.” She followed Tommy into the parlor, where he sat the child down on the couch.
Elizabeth laid down her handbag and approached the child, who stared up at her with wet eyes and her small thumb stuck in her mouth.
Gently parting the blond hair, Elizabeth felt a small knot beginning to rise on the child’s head. “Fetch me a flannel soaked in cold water,” she ordered Tommy.
He hesitated for a moment, then fled into the kitchen.
“There, there, sweetheart,” Elizabeth murmured, folding her arms around the sniveling child. “We’ll soon make it all better.”
Katie answered her by bursting into loud sobs.
Tommy came back with a dripping facecloth and Elizabeth wrung it out over the hearth before applying it to the squirming Katie’s head.
The child yelled at the contact, then sobbed while Elizabeth rocked her in her arms.
Gradually the sobs subsided, and Elizabeth met Tommy’s anxious gaze. “She’ll be all right,” she assured him. “It’s just a bump. It will stop hurting soon.” She glanced more closely at his jaw. The bruises were now fading to an ugly yellow. “I hope your face has stopped hurting, as well.”
Tommy snatched his gaze away from her and stared at his sister instead. “It’s all right,” he mumbled.
Elizabeth decided now was the time to test her theory. “Your mother said you’d been fighting that morning I was here, but that’s not quite true, is it? Bruises take one or two days to turn that deep purple. Someone else hit you before that day, isn’t that right?”
Tommy shook his head fiercely, pressed his lips together, and stared down at the floor.
“Tommy,” Elizabeth said gently, “was it your father who hit you?”
The boy remained silent.
Elizabeth tried again. “It’s all right, Tommy. No one is going to get into trouble as long as you tell the truth.”
He looked at her then, and the look of dread on his face chilled her heart. “Mum said we were never to talk about my father again.” His gaze shifted to a spot behind her, and his eyes widened.
With a jolt of apprehension, Elizabeth turned her head.
Iris stood in the doorway, her eyes blazing with suppressed fury. “Might I ask what you are doing here in my house, Lady Elizabeth?”
Katie wailed, struggled out of Elizabeth’s arms, and ran to her mother, sobbing bitterly.
Iris stooped and gathered her up, then glared at Elizabeth as she slowly straightened.
“Katie fell and bumped her head.” Tommy was in such a rush to explain, his words tumbled over each other. “The lady came in to help and she put a flannel on her head and she stopped crying and I was just-”
“Tommy!” Iris rapped out sharply. “That’s enough. Take your sister to the bedroom and make sure she doesn’t fall down again.”
Katie wailed again and clung to her mother’s neck. “Don’t wanna go!”
Iris disentangled the child’s arms and handed her over to her brother. Katie’s wails filled the house as Tommy carried her off, then they faded behind the door he closed behind them.
“I apologize, Mrs. Morgan,” Elizabeth said, gathering up her handbag. “I came to see you, and Tommy opened the door just as Katie cried out. I only wanted to help, that’s all.”
Iris nodded stiffly and walked over to the couch, where she picked up the wet facecloth. “Thank you, your ladyship. What did you want to see me about?”
“I wanted to ask you…” Elizabeth paused, then took a deep breath. “I wanted to ask you if your husband physically abused your children.”
Iris stared at her for a moment, then turned away. “If you’re asking if he spanked them, well, yes, he did. Kids need discipline, you know.”
“I’m asking if he abused them,” Elizabeth said softly. “Those bruises on Tommy’s jaw. They weren’t caused by him fighting with other boys that morning. Those were days-old bruises. I suspect they were caused by his father.”
Iris’s bottom lip trembled, then she said sharply, “That’s nonsense. Clyde was a strict father, but he wouldn’t beat his children.”
“I think he did, Mrs. Morgan.” Elizabeth moved closer to her. “I think that’s why Katie hits her teddy bear and shouts at it. She’s copying her father. Clyde Morgan abused your children, didn’t he? I think you were frightened for them. He had to be stopped, before he did them real harm.”
“No!” Iris turned on her, eyes blazing. “You don’t know anything! Clyde shot himself. I don’t know why, but that’s what happened. The constable said so. It’s over and done with. My husband is dead. Why can’t you just leave it at that and leave us alone!”
Elizabeth’s glance strayed to the armchair in the corner of the room. “The first time I came here you mentioned you’d washed that chair.”
Iris sent a wild look at the chair. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Forgive me, Mrs. Morgan, but taking into account the general look of your house and garden, it seemed odd to me that you would go to the trouble of washing an armchair unless you had a specific reason.”
Iris’s gaze was steady when it met hers. And as cold as a winter’s sea. “The cat pissed on it,” she said bluntly.
For a long moment the two women stared at each other, then Elizabeth sighed again. “Well, I’ll take my leave. I hope Katie’s bump on the head gets better soon.”
“I’ll see you to the door.”
Elizabeth stepped out into the hallway with Iris following close behind.
As she opened the door for Elizabeth, Iris said quietly, “My husband shot himself, Lady Elizabeth. For everyone’s sake, let’s leave it at that.”
Bidding her good-bye, Elizabeth hurried down the path to her motorcycle. She was more certain than ever that Clyde Morgan had died in that house. Probably in the armchair that Iris had gone to all that trouble to wash. There didn’t seem to be any way she could prove it, however.
The sun had dipped below the level of the trees as she roared up the hill toward the manor. Moths danced in the fading dusk, and an evening mist crept from the ocean across the sands. Usually this time of day gave Elizabeth a sense of peace, as if the countryside were getting ready to put away its cares and rest for the night until the dawn heralded a new day.
Tonight, however, she felt overwrought, her thoughts churning in a restless chaotic whirl that drained her mind. She put it down to the exchange she’d had with Iris Morgan. Her instincts insisted that Iris had killed her husband to protect her children, but without the proof she couldn’t be certain of that.
Then again, she wasn’t at all sure she’d be doing the right thing by hunting for the truth. What would happen to Tommy and Katie if Iris were imprisoned for killing her husband? All she could think about was Katie clinging to her mother’s neck, sobbing.
How could she condemn a woman for going to such dreadful lengths to protect her children? After everything they’d suffered, wouldn’t it be better for them to have at least one parent to love and take care of them in their own home?
To what kind of life would she be subjecting them if she was successful in sending their mother to prison? Could she honestly live with that on her conscience? What would be best for the children-to live with the woman who’d murdered their father through her love for them, or perhaps be separated and miserable in a strange home?
