Page 92 of Evidence of Evil
“Says he’s a friend of yours,” Janey said, and dropped a card on the desk in front of Constance.
Her breath stopped.Solomon Grey, Esquire.“Here?”
“When have I ever brought anyone here in my life?” Janey said indignantly, takinghereas meaning this very room. “And it’s only hisnamesounds suspicious. Walks like one of them haughty cats. Lovely coat and eyes that melt you at a hundred yards. Do you want him thrown out?”
She sounded disappointed, but she would have done it, probably without the aid of the footmen.
“No,” Constance said, rising abruptly as panic set in. Why had he come here? To tell her not to bother him again? Wouldn’t a letter have done? Perhaps he was just being friendly or making sure she was well after her bolt from The Willows. Then she remembered the maps on his table when she had gone to his flat. The fact that he was easing out of personal involvement in his various businesses. He was going away. He had come to say goodbye.
The ache in her heart grew sharper, but she ignored it as she always did. “I’ll go down and see him. While I do, ask around and see if the girls know anyone who might want to replace Hildie.”
She walked out of the room, still limping slightly, though her ankle was much better today. Her heart beat foolishly fast. She even touched her hair with one hand to be sure it was tidy.At least her gown was decent. In her line of work, she couldn’t afford anyone to see her in an unbecoming dress.
Her hand shook slightly on the banister as she descended the stairs, but she schooled her face to an expression of polite welcome. Nodding briefly to Anthony, the liveried footman in the hall—who basically guarded any visitors left alone and remained at his post until Constance dismissed him—she entered the salon with all the practiced composure she could muster.
Solomon stood with his back to her, examining the porcelain figurine on the inlaid walnut table. She wondered if he was surprised by the quiet elegance of her salon. Had he expected something vulgar and plush, like stained red-velvet sofas trimmed with gold?
He turned quickly as she entered, and her mouth went dry—not just because of the way he looked but because he washere, and because for an instant before he veiled his eyes, something very like hope blazed there.
What did he hope for?
He replaced the figurine on the table and bowed. “Constance.”
“Solomon. I am surprised to see you in such unhallowed halls.”
“I’m not a prig, Constance.”
“You wish to apply for an invitation?”Stupid, stupid, why did I say that?
“Don’t be silly. I could have done that by letter. How is your ankle?”
“Still healing, as you can no doubt tell, but much better. Thank you for asking.”
“I don’t suppose you helped it bolting off by train at the crack of dawn.”
“I did not bolt,” she said icily.
“Yes, you did. I don’t ask your reasons. They’re your own. I just want to be sure you are well.”
“Perfectly.” She swallowed. “Thank you for returning my bags. How did you leave the Maules?”
“Finding their way. She told him everything and he is coming to terms with it, but I believe their marriage is strong. He still loves her.”
“And she has always loved him.” She walked across the room to cover her restlessness, adjusting the arrangement of chrysanthemums in the vase by the window. “Is the neighborhood in uproar?”
“Somewhat stunned by Dr. Laing’s fall. Oh, do you remember the silver bracelet in Frances’s treasure drawer? The police found a matching one in Laing’s bedchamber, so there is proof of their relationship if the police need it. He gave her one as a love token. He was saving the other for a wedding gift.”
“Poor Laing,” she said. “He truly was besotted. The real tragedy is that she would probably have made an excellent doctor’s wife, being of real use to the whole community and perhaps finding her own fulfillment. But she had fixed on Humphrey and could not see what was in front of her face.”
He shrugged. “People don’t choose whom to love. They just do. Besides, it is facile to blame everything he did on Frances. He held the pillow over her face for long enough to kill her, and she must have struggled. After which, he deliberately covered up his crime and was quite prepared to let others suffer for it. Including Elizabeth. And you and me, of course, when we found him out.”
She shuddered, remembering the burning gig, the shots that missed their targets by mere whiskers, and then the fury of Laing’s attack on Solomon. And he had been complicit in driving Sarah from her home whenever he and Frances trysted. It was all hard to forgive, impossible to justify.
She paced back toward Solomon, fixing her gaze on the region of his collar and necktie. “Is your throat still bruised?”
He touched it. “A bit. Though I feel we should try not to end all our cases with fire. It is becoming a bad habit.”
Her breath caught. “You have another case?” she blurted.
