Page 73 of Evidence of Evil
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It was such a terrible time for me. I was so afraid.”
“Of course you were,” Omand said soothingly. “Quite understandable. My trouble is, Lady Maule, that this gives you a motive. I think Frances Niall found out about this lost time and tried to blackmail you with it. Whether for money, or to quit the field of competition for your husband’s affections.”
His words seemed to slam into Elizabeth, devastating her, and yet Humphrey made no move to comfort her or counter the inspector’s conclusion.
“But she never did,” Elizabeth protested.
“Would it surprise you to know she had made inquiries with a solicitor in London? And ifwecould find your missing three weeks, so could the solicitor. Lady Maule, with regret, I have to arrest you on suspicion of the murder of Frances Niall.”
Chapter Fifteen
Below stairs, inher sitting room, Mrs. Haslett sat fuming. She was barely able to contain herself, and in fact, the furious words had already erupted, though thankfully only to Manson, with whom she had been enjoying a cup of tea when the policemen were admitted to the kitchen.
“Never in my life have I had to tolerate officers of the law in this house!” she had burst out. “Not untilshecame!”
Manson, of course, had looked all quelling and disapproving. Worse, he had actually taken the policemen upstairs. Which made her very uneasy. Were they informing the master that they meant to arrest one of the staff? Who at The Willows could possibly be responsible for poor Miss Niall’s death?
No one, of course. The fools would be making a mistake, but that wouldn’t necessarily stop them, and another life would be destroyed…
Manson’s stately step sounded on the stairs. Mrs. Haslett jumped to her feet and opened her door. All the servants were staring toward the butler in dread.
“Don’t gawp,” he commanded. “Finish your work.”
He turned toward Mrs. Haslett, who stood aside to let him return to her sitting room, and closed the door on the whispers outside.
“Well,” Manson said heavily, “you finally have your wish to be rid of her ladyship. They’ve arrested her.”
The blood drained from her face so quickly she had to sit down. “Arrested Lady Maule? But that’s ridiculous!”
“It is.”
“Sir Humphrey won’t stand for it,” Mrs. Haslett declared.
“I don’t see what he can do,” Manson said.
“But…but that poor girl… He can’t just leave her to the wolves!”
Manson, who had been staring at the wall, turned his curious gaze upon her. “I thought you would be pleased. You’ve had it in for her from the moment Sir Humphrey told us he was going to marry her.”
A twinge of shame shook Mrs. Haslett, but most of what she felt was anger. Martial anger. Very different from her previouswhining. She sprang to her feet, all but tearing off her apron and throwing it onto the chair.
“That may be. But I will not sit back and let those presumptuous fools take our mistress away! Stand aside, Mr. Manson, or at least bolt the back door. They’re taking her nowhere, and so I shall tell them!”
With that, she marched out of the room and up the stairs, ready for battle.
*
Sir Humphrey Maulefelt his world crumble about his ears. This was his worst nightmare. It all made a horrible kind of sense. Frances’s accusations against Elizabeth, Elizabeth’s own reticence, Colonel Niall’s apparently not-so-bizarre accusations… Even the presence of the Greys in support of Elizabeth.
He wasn’t quite sure what Omand had implied in that passage with Constance, but the inspector clearly knew something about her, and it was not to her credit. No wonder shehad thought nothing of helping an unwed mother, had known so much about how to arrange a respectable adoption…
And none of that mattered before the blinding truth that Elizabeth hadliedto him, and repeatedly. The lost weeks that Omand spoke of seemed to burn into his soul, bringing vile, terrible visions that horrified him. Of his wife, whom he loved to distraction. Who was about to be exposed, arrested as a murderess. He would lose her. His children would lose her.
She was already lost…
He tugged at his collar, finding it hard to breathe. He could not bear the sympathy of the policeman, the agony of his wife, thelies…
“Arrest?” Constance said with surprising mildness. “Is that not somewhat hasty when this is based on mere speculation on your part?”
