Page 12 of Evidence of Evil
“Of course,” he said testily. “But when people’s lives are probed into, all sorts of things come out, things no one wants to become subjects of gossip.”
Her stomach twinged. “Things? What sort of things?” When he didn’t answer, she said brittlely, “Things like my past?”
“Or anyone else’s. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Well, Constance knows all of mine. She does not know yours.” It was a childish thing to say, and she regretted it instantly.
He snatched his hand away from her. “What do you mean by that? What exactly do you suspect me of?”
“Nothing,” she said miserably. “It is you who can never forget mine.” And if he learned the whole truth, that would be the end of everything.
*
Constance was notused to such domesticity, the day-to-day interactions between married couples. Unpacking her belongings and placing them beside Solomon’s had disconcerted her in some strange way, which might have been why, duringdinner that evening, she imagined some sort of tension had sprung up between the truly married couple in the house.
Not that they were ever rude or even short with each other, but there was no sign of the playfulness or the banter she had seen earlier at tea when the children were present. Since the servants were constantly in and out of the dining room, there could be no discussion of the murder, so conversation was impersonal.
Sir Humphrey, for a self-professed rough-edged country bumpkin, was clearly very well read and knowledgeable on a wide range of topics, from politics to the classics, and Elizabeth had the education to keep up. So did Solomon. It was unusual for Constance to feel at a disadvantage—she had educated herself, first in the necessities and later in pursuit of her own impulsive interests—but in this house and this company, she was all too aware of the gaps. She imaginedignoramusor evendunceimprinted on her forehead.
So she smiled, observed, and contributed little. Without her beauty and the cultivated charm that she always used as weapons, would she simply be dull?
Unimportant. I am here to help Elizabeth, not lament my upbringing.
Only over the dessert course, when the servants had all departed with the other dishes, did she say, “Tomorrow, would it be possible to call on the Nialls?”
This time, the Maules’ eyes did meet in definite if silent communication.
“It would have to be Humphrey who takes you to Fairfield Grange,” Elizabeth said. “I am not welcome there.”
“And I am understandably reluctant to go,” Sir Humphrey said, “considering the accusations Niall has thrown at my wife. Grief cannot excuse that.”
“No,” Solomon agreed. He glanced at Constance. “I suppose we could come up with some ploy or excuse.”
“I’m sure we could,” she said heartily.
Sir Humphrey glowered. “No need for that. Niall will admit me. And I shall endeavor not to hit him.”
“Excellent,” Constance said. “This is delicious, Elizabeth. You must winkle the recipe from your cook, so I can pass it on to mine.”
When the women finally withdrew, leaving the gentlemen to their port, Elizabeth asked lots of questions about the girls she had known in Constance’s establishment. Many amusing tales came out of that, capped by Elizabeth’s humorous anecdotes about the children. Constance almost forgot about the murder, though the anxiety lingered in her friend’s eyes.
Elizabeth rang for tea as soon as the gentlemen rejoined them, and after one cup, Constance pled exhaustion from the journey and retired.
“I shan’t be late,” Solomon said casually. “I’ll try not to wake you.”
This was ridiculous, Constance thought, as she closed the bedroom door and leaned against it. She was behaving more like a nervous bride than an infamous courtesan—the polite title for her profession. It was not as if Solomon would ever bring himself to touch her, at least not in that way.
But he had kissed her farewell as he left Norfolk in the summer. It had been a very brief,almostchaste kiss, and yet it had made her happy. She had taken it as a sign that she would see him again, that their friendship was not over. And yet she had been the one to go to him in the end.
What did he think of that? Did he guess…
Guess what?she asked herself aggressively.There is nothingtoguess.
And yet that kiss stayed with her months later as she undressed, washed, and donned her nightgown. Inevitably, it was a pretty one of fine lawn and lace. She did not own any other kind. Would he imagine that she wore it for him? That she was trying to seduce him? After all, she had asked him to come with her, knowing they would have to pretend to be married.
No, he had known that part was her teasing. They had agreed on friendship, and Constance had no desire to change that. To be fair, neither had he.
She brushed out her hair, confined it with a ribbon, then blew out all the candles except one, which she decided to leave for Solomon, though he would undoubtedly arrive with one too. By then, she would be asleep.
