Page 22 of Murder in Moonlight
Was it not that odd vulnerability as much as her beauty that ensured he remembered her? Whatever, the attraction was strong and unique. But he would never allow her the upper hand.
“Davidson,” he said abruptly, dispelling her image from his mind. “Why is he here? Who invited him?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “He has done business with Winsom and Bolton, but I don’t know what. He is very attentive to young Ellen.”
Solomon kicked broodingly at a couple of dead sticks on the path. “What does a thirty-year-old, self-made man of the world see in a sheltered schoolgirl?”
“Money,” Constance said cynically. “And it does no harm to his business to be the son-in-law of Walter Winsom.”
“Did her parents approve of such a courtship?”
“I’m not sure they noticed,” Constance replied. “Which was why she spoke to me.”
He was turning back toward the house, but at that, he glanced at her. “What did you tell her?”
“To take her time, spread her wings, and keep her options open. And that she is a route to money and influence for unscrupulous men. I assure you I am quite the champion of moral rectitude and sensible advice.”
All things to all people… And she imagined Ellen might be her little sister. “Does it give him a motive?” Solomon wondered. “Or her, come to that. Can you see her murdering her father?”
“Not without a much better reason than Ivor Davidson. Davidson wouldn’t risk it either—except in a temper, perhaps.”
“Like Randolph?Hehas a temper, has he not?”
“Yes,” Constance allowed. Her voice was flat, deliberately unconcerned. Even she, mercenary and independent, had wished for a family, and not just for material gain. “I don’t suppose the vicar has, though.”
“Albright? Why not? Because he is a man of God?”
“Please,” Constance said. “I cannot tell you the number of so-called godly men who pass through my establishment. I had to ban one of them for reasons that would make you blush. I would not tar Peter Albright with that particular brush, but he is an ambitious career churchman. I cannot think murder in his family would improve his chances of preferment.”
She had a point. “And Miriam?” he asked, for the sake of completeness.
Again, she surprised him. “Miriam is an interesting character. Quiet, almost submissive, she is clearly proud of her husband and as obedient to him as she was to her parents. Yet she took charge last night, looked after her mother—as far as she could—and her siblings.”
“Then she is stronger than she appears?” Solomon said with new interest.
“I think she must be. She does not love her husband.”
He blinked. “Then her marriage was to please her parents? Does that not rather imply weakness, since she would not stand up to them?”
“I didn’t say she did not want the marriage,” Constance pointed out. “But it takes a certain kind of strength to submit to a man one does not love.”
“I suppose you would know,” he replied.
There was the smallest of pauses before she said, “Yes, it is something of a specialty in my profession.”
He looked at her quickly. She appeared unconcerned, gazing straight ahead of her, and yet something in her had changed. Was she angry? Hurt? He could not tell.
She turned her head to meet his gaze. “Never imagine I am submissive, Mr. Grey. Our partnership would come to grief.”
He widened his eyes in amusement. “Are you warning me off?”
“Oh, I don’t think I have any need of that with you,” she said affably. “I am just telling you in a general kind of way. Women, like men, are generally more than they seem. Are we any further forward in discovering our murderer?”
“No.” It was an effort to adjust his mind away from her once more. “Though I thank you for clarifying a few matters for me. We need to ask some questions. And look again, perhaps, at the scene of the crime.”
The shadow of a frown flickered across her brow, as though she were annoyed with herself for not thinking of it herself. He wondered what crimes she had been involved in before this, whether as victim or perpetrator.
She certainly walked back toward the garden at breakneck speed, and in very few minutes they stood by the swing, close to where they had found the body. Solomon had already been here this morning, before breakfast, but he hoped she would notice something he had missed. He kept his gaze on her face, not on the churned-up lawn.
