Page 72 of Evidence of Evil
“With all respect—” Napier began, although he clearly had none.
“Now,” Omand snapped. “Close the door on your way out.”
For an instant, Napier looked as if he would disobey even this direct order, though in the end, he rose with ill grace and walked very slowly to the door, so focused on his own outrage that he brushed against Constance’s skirts without noticing.
Omand did not wait for his departure. “I apologize once more for my constable’s insulting words. He seems to forget you are a justice of the peace. And then, he still sees life in black and white like a child, with no understanding of the complications faced by responsible adults. I hope he will learn before it is too late for his career. And his character.”
The door closed with a decidedclick.
Elizabeth’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Constance did not. Of the two policemen, she had always known Omand was the wiliest and most dangerous, because he troubled to understand people.
“My wife was the victim of an unscrupulous, evil man,” Humphrey said stiffly. “There has never been a question of forgiving her. She remains what she has always been, a good and proper lady.”
Elizabeth blinked rapidly, as though trying to be rid of sudden tears.
“And such sentiments do you both credit, sir,” Omand said. “The world can be a dangerous and censorious place, and ladies often have little power in it.”
“That is very perceptive of you, inspector,” Humphrey said.
“Which is why Miss Niall was so unusual,” Omand continued. “Having spoken to several of the servants at Fairfield Grange, I am led to believe she seized her own power through—er…knowledge she acquired about various people. Loath as I am to think it, Lady Maule, did Miss Niall ever imply she knew anything to your discredit? Such as, perhaps, your illegitimate child?”
Elizabeth swallowed convulsively. “No,” she said. “She never implied she knew anything about my child. He was adopted, if you are wondering.”
“That must have been difficult for you,” Omand said, his eyes kind—too kind. “We made inquiries at all the usual hospitals and such like, and none of them know of you. My lady, where did you have the baby?”
Elizabeth twitched her brow. It was not the question she had been expecting, and she did not see the trap. Constance did.
“Where?” Elizabeth said a little wildly. “At the home of my friend, Mrs. Grey.”
Omand spared Constance a glance. She offered a faint smile and prayed he hadn’t also inquired into whoshewas. “And where do you reside, Mrs. Grey?”
“Just off Grosvenor Square,” she said steadily.
“In a quiet cul-de-sac,” he murmured. “A discreet establishment.”
Damn and damn and damn…“No more than any with such an address.”
Sir Humphrey was looking puzzled, Elizabeth anxious.
“And when exactly did Lady Maule—Miss Lorimer, as she was then—join your household?”
“She came as my guest,” Constance said. “And I cannot quite recall the precise date.”
“I can,” Elizabeth said disastrously.
It was all Constance could do not to glare at her.Be silent, for your own sake. Or at least lie…
She didn’t. “It was Monday the eleventh of March, 1850. I will always remember the date for Mrs. Grey’s kindness.”
“As no doubt,” Omand said, “you remember the date of your parents’unkindness.”
“What?” Elizabeth said, bewildered.
“Your father states he told you to leave on the morning of the eighteenth of February, 1850. Exactly where did you go before you found refuge with Mrs. Grey?”
The wretched man knew perfectly well that Constance wasn’t Mrs. Grey.
But it was Elizabeth who really concerned her. Tears of shame and confusion filled her eyes. And Sir Humphrey was staring at her as if he had never seen her before.
