Page 97 of Murder in Moonlight
She didn’t like the helplessness in her words or her voice, but they were at least truthful.
“Were you going for a walk?” Flynn asked. “I can walk with you for a little, if you like. Or not,” he added hastily.
It brought a smile flickering to her lips. She liked the sergeant. He had no pretensions, no axe to grind or role to play. He had honest eyes, a touch of sardonic humor, and a really rather wonderful smile.
“Iwouldlike,” she said.
They walked into the sunshine together, quiet and companionable.
“It will take time,” he said at last, “to adjust to everything.”
She nodded. “Will we able to go back to Greenforth? If my mother wishes to.”
“I believe so. The only damage is to the old wing. It will have to be rebuilt. It will be an interest, perhaps. A distraction.”
Her lips twisted. “From the unpleasant reality that our neighbors won’t speak to us once the whole scandal comes out?”
“It needn’tallcome out, except in court. The inspector will see what he can do to limit how much is reported in the newspapers.”
“That is kind of him.”
“We’re all human.”
“And all afraid of scandal, how it will affect our standing in the world, our career—poor Peter!—our marriage chances…”
“Poor you?” he asked sympathetically.
She sighed, gazing out over the fields to the horizon, imagining the vast world beyond. “I don’t think I want to be married. Ever, if I have to live like my mother. Certainly not yet. I flirted with Mr. Davidson, you know. I thought it might be fun, but it’s just dishonest because neither of us means it.” She cast him a quick smile. “I think I might have just grown up. At least enough to know that I don’t want to sit sewing samplers until some man I don’t hate deigns to take me off my mother’s hands for my fortune.”
“No, that does sound a dreary life,” he agreed.
“I shall be bored,” she said. “I think I was bored already. Perhaps I should become more involved in causes. Like the anti-slavery society.”
“A cause worthy of your time,” he said. “Like many others.”
“I know nothing of the world,” she said, almost surprised by the discovery.
“Young ladies are sheltered to protect them.”
“And if we don’t want to be protected?”
“You should.” He sounded stern, but there was no criticism in his eyes, only concern. She saw with some surprise that he liked her. And she liked that much more than Ivor Davidson’s fulsome compliments and secret touches.
“Maybe it’s thekindof protection you need to question,” he suggested. “You must be safe, but everyone should have that right. If you want to see the world, you really just need to look beyond sending a pot of jam to your poorest tenants or cast-off clothes to the deserving poor in London. There is a whole world of poverty and sickness out there. Much of it leads to crime, so I see an awful lot of it. The poor need work, decent housing,warmth, and water. They need education and self-respect and hope.”
Ellen took his arm, happy to have found a friend of her own, and suddenly much more interested, even excited, about the future. “Tell me more.”
*
Constance found thatthe Greenforth servants had packed all her bags and brought them to the inn, where she had spent a few uncomfortable hours dozing through pain. She was very glad to wash from head to toe—again—and dress in her own clothes. She didn’t think her hair smelled of smoke anymore, but she could not be sure. It seemed to linger in her nostrils and her throat.
Wincing, she put a clean dressing on her head and kept it in place with a dashing scarf rather than a bandage.
Disappointingly, there was no sign of Solomon when she went downstairs for breakfast, though the maid assured her he was fine and had eaten before he went out early with the police inspector.
Constance could not really do justice to the inn’s generous breakfast. Her throat was too sore. But she ate some soft, crustless new bread with a little egg, and drank lukewarm coffee.
She was even contemplating a second cup from the pot when Randolph entered the inn.
