Page 28 of Evidence of Evil
No, Elizabeth’s marriage was no bed of roses, even before Frances Niall’s death.
Constance sat down. “It was a good strategy,” she allowed, “and I suspect it would have worked with most people. Mrs. Haslett, however, seems to take every deferment as weakness, and is exercising her petty power to torture you.”
“Oh, Constance, it’s not as bad as that!”
“Isn’t it? If not, it will be in time. Don’t put yourself through the business of menus with her again. Send them directly to the cook. There is nothing wrong with any of your choices. You don’t have to justify your orders, but if you feel the need, tell her you are reorganizing your time. The woman is becoming a tyrant—don’t make yourself complicit in that.”
Elizabeth held her head in both hands. “I have missed your common sense, Constance,” she said shakily. “I do feel very alone sometimes. And you’re right—it is time I exerted my authority. Only if she goes to Humphrey about it…”
Constance reached across the table to remove Elizabeth’s hands from her face. “You’re afraid he won’t support you? If she goes to Humphrey she will merely irritate him, and he’ll leave it to you anyway. Hewillsupport you.” She had seen him at Fairfield Grange, facing Colonel Niall.
“Don’t let this woman chip at your confidence again,” Constance continued. “This house is a delightful home largely because of you. As for Mrs. Haslett,” she added with sudden insight, “I suspect some of her behavior stems from her desperation to stay. She sees you as a threat because you stepped out of your place.”
Elizabeth raised her head, looking thoughtful.
Constance had no intention of repeating what the housekeeper had said about preferring Frances as mistress. Still, the matter of Humphrey’s engagement had to be faced.
“Elizabeth, something else—”
A brief knock interrupted Constance, and Manson the butler announced the serving of luncheon.
Although Sir Humphrey was perfectly polite as they ate, Constance sensed a tension in him. She wondered if he was regretting allowing her and Solomon to stay and investigate the truth of Frances’s death. She wondered if Elizabeth was.
They did not discuss the murder, though, and Sir Humphrey excused himself on the grounds of estate matters almost as soon as the meal was finished.
“Would you like to see the garden?” Elizabeth asked.
She had always loved gardening. It was she who had first planted and cared for the kitchen garden in London, even making a pretty, colorful place to sit in the warmer weather.
“I would,” Constance said, rising at once. “You have much more land to play with here than in London.”
“Mr. Grey?” Elizabeth said politely as he stood also. “Do you care for gardens?”
“I do,” Solomon said, “but I beg you will excuse me until another time. I have letters to write that are growing urgent.” He bowed and withdrew.
“Is he bored, or does he really have such matters to attend to?” Elizabeth asked as they made their way to the side door into the garden. It was warm enough not to need coats, and not quite sunny enough to require hats, so they wandered outside as they were.
“Oh, he isn’t bored,” Constance said, “though I suppose he might be being tactful, so that we can enjoy a tête-à-tête.”
Elizabeth veered away from that, asking hastily, “What does he do, your Mr. Grey? Humph said he was in shipping.”
“Among other things, but yes. Only…he seems to be taking a step back, delegating the business to others and leaving himself free.”
“To do what?”
“Travel, I think,” Constance replied. “Though I’m not sure he knows. Still waters run deep in Solomon. And in you, it would appear.”
Elizabeth cast her a quick glance. “I don’t know what makes you say so. This is the rose garden.”
“So I see. It’s beautiful and smells heavenly.” Constance decided on the direct approach. “What makes me say so is the fact that you never told me your husband was once engaged to marry the dead woman. Or didn’t you know?”
Elizabeth sank onto the first bench and closed her eyes. “I should have told you. I just thought it might make things look bad for Humph. And me.”
“Thelyingmakes things look bad for you and Humph,” Constance said severely. “So you did know.”
Elizabeth nodded. “He told me about her before he even asked me to marry him. But they were neverengaged, Constance. He was seriously considering it, for the sake of the children, because they needed a mother, and the first governess he hired was quite unsuitable. You must understand he grieved terribly when Gillian—his first wife—died. He never expected to love anyone else, and he thought Frances, a well-thought-of lady of good birth and education, would do.”
“Do,” Constance repeated. “I have heard many descriptions of her now. I have heard her eulogized and admired by all as beautiful, good, fascinating, beloved, clever. Yet Sir Humphrey thought no more of her than that she woulddo?”
