Page 55 of Evidence of Evil
Impatiently, Constance marched on. This was all mere speculation. As far as fact was concerned, she had the lowering feeling that she knew as little as she had when she first received Elizabeth’s plea for help.
“Where are you, Solomon?” she muttered aloud. “I need to talk to younow.”
*
Constance changed earlyfor dinner and went down to the drawing room immediately, in the hope of finding Sir Humphrey alone. Instead, she found Elizabeth, sitting tensely upright on the sofa, twisting her hands together in her lap.
Refusing to waste time, Constance sat down beside her and said at once, “The night Frances died, did you and she drink tea or wine together?”
“We had a glass of wine. It made her company easier for me.”
“Did you both drink it all?”
“I didn’t,” Elizabeth said, frowning. “I only had a few sips before she suggested we walk. I think she drank all of hers, though.”
“Who poured the wine?”
“I did.”
“From a fresh bottle?”
“No, it was one Humph and I had drunk from at dinner. It was in the decanter. Does it matter?”
“I doubt it. Did she seem ill, that she wanted fresh air? Did you see any sign of illness or distress of any kind as you walked?”
“None. In fact, she set off pretty briskly when we parted.”
Constance was blundering in the dark here. She had no idea about poisonous herbs, or how long it took them to work, or what the symptoms might be. In any case, she was merely trying to prove, for the benefit of others, that Elizabeth could not have done it. And she was achieving nothing.
She sighed. “Elizabeth, do you think Frances was the kind of person who would ever take their own life?”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “No,” she said emphatically.
“But she was not a happy person, was she? To behave as she did, say the things she did, she must have been terriblyunhappy.”
“Perhaps.” Elizabeth did not look convinced. “And I hardly think Colonel Niall would thank us for suggesting such a thing.”
“No, you’re probably right… Do you know anything about herbs?”
“For cooking?” Elizabeth asked, baffled by the change of subject.
“More for medicinal purposes.”
“Not really. My mother preferred modern physicians to wise women where health was concerned. Although I have heard it said that wise women are less likely to kill you!”
Constance, who had witnessed the sickening results of so-called wise women’s work in the back streets of London, did not believe that either.
“Do you think Frances had such knowledge?”
“If she did, she never spoke to me about it.”
Constance hadn’t truly expected such inquiries to bear much fruit. She was really just avoiding the other things she had to ask. There was a short silence, tense now on Constance’s part, and then Sir Humphrey walked into the room, and shewas unspeakably relieved that she had not asked. It was best—probably—that she approach the man himself.
Her moment did not come until after dinner, when Elizabeth had gone upstairs to see to the children. Sir Humphrey had chosen not to linger alone with his port, but had brought it with him to the drawing room to be sociable. In fact, it was he who brought up the subject that Constance had been studiously avoiding over dinner.
“How goes your investigation, Mrs. Grey? What is it your husband hopes to learn in London? Or has he truly gone there on business purposes?”
“No, he went onyourbusiness, following a letter we found among Frances’s things. I suspect now he could have found the truth without going there, but at least it will be proof. May I ask you a private question, Sir Humphrey?”
