Page 65 of Murder in Moonlight
“You are a surprising man, Mr. Grey.”
“I thought I was Solomon.”
Good God, was she blushing? “A slip of the tongue. I would hate to oblige you to call me Constance.”
“Why?”
“You would not be comfortable.”
“Would I not, Constance? How well do you imagine you know me?”
“How well do you imagine you knowme?” she countered.
His rare smile dawned, weakening her knees all over again. “Not as well as I would like. But we seem to have gone beyond the formalities. Shall we get out of here with our treasure?”
She had almost forgotten she disliked the place.
Chapter Fourteen
There were manyareas of Miriam Albright’s life that she did not like to think about. Her marriage was one of them. The murder of her father was most certainly another, which was why she kept herself almost feverishly busy.
She had taken on herself the running of the house, writing the death notifications—with occasional help from Ellen—and such other arrangements as could be made without her knowing when her father’s body would be released to them. On top of that, she insisted on keeping up much of Peter’s correspondence, which was what she was doing after tea when he found her yet again at the morning room desk.
He seemed slightly shocked by her activity, always tried to make her rest more, talk to her about God’s will, and her own grief. Miriam bore these as patiently as she could and avoided them when at all possible.
“My dear, you will exhaust yourself,” he said now, with the sort of anxious kindness that grated on her nerves. “There is nothing we can do about the arrest of Richards, except pray. Of course, the servants are upset, but I think you must let Mrs. Farrow deal with that. I myself will speak to them and lead them in prayer this evening.”
She gave him a distracted smile. It was the best she could do, for she could feel the anger welling up in her again. She stood abruptly “I do not believe Richards did this.”
“We must allow the police to know their own business.”
“Must we? Would you say the same if they arrested me?”
For an instant, he looked startled, then his face smoothed. It seemed a long time since she had last wondered what he truly thought, which added to her guilt.
“Why would they be so foolish?” he said lightly.
She stood abruptly, striding to the window, then wishing she had gone to the door instead. The view from the window was too familiar to distract her for long, and her husband was still talking.
“I understand your distress. Richards has been with your family a number of years, but you cannot choose whoever you would prefer to be guilty.”
“I am aware of that,” she said stiffly. She heard him come closer and steeled herself. She knew he was trying and floundering in his attempts to ease her pain. He did not seem to understand that nothing could, and that annoyed her too.
“Such a terrible thing,” he went on tritely, “but if it was truly one of the household who committed the crime, it is better it should be a servant than—”
“Than one ofus?” she said harshly, spinning around to face him. “You think the scandal might be less this way, that we can somehow rise above it, and you will still be a bishop in five or six years?”
She knew she maligned him, and he looked so shocked by the accusation that it fed her guilt, and the guilt fed her fury.
“Does the truth not matter to us? Only what people perceive?”
For once, he did not trouble to hide his hurt. The mask of superiority and control slipped from his face, leaving it anguished. “Is that what you truly think of me, Miriam? That I am so consumed with ambition? Of course I would like to be a bishop, even an archbishop. I could do more good with such authority. I thought you understood that.”
She closed her eyes against his pain. God, she had to deal with that too. Was there no end to this?
“Why don’t you trust me?” he asked, his voice so sad, so bewildered, that she opened her eyes again in sheer surprise.
Impulsively, she grasped his shoulder. “I do. I do. It’s just…” Her fingers dug into his shoulder so hard it must have hurt. She gasped. “Oh, Peter, I have been soangry!”
