Defend and Betray

Hester watched Edith's face carefully; she did not wish to hurt, but the thoughts were high in her mind. “But Thaddeus had money surely? If Louisa married him, she wouldn't need Maxim's money?”

Edith laughed outright.”Don't be absurd! She'd be ruined if Maxim divorced her-and Thaddeus certainly wouldn't get involved in anything like that. The scandal would ruin him too.”

“Yes, I suppose it would,” Hester agreed sensibly. She sat silently for several minutes, thoughts churning around in her head.

“I hate even to think of this at all,” Hester said with a shudder of memory. “But what if it were someone else altogether? Not any one of the guests, but one of the servants? Did he go to the Furnivals' house often?”

“Yes, I believe so, but why on earth should a servant want to kill him? That's too unlikely. I know you want to find something-but…”

“I don't know. Something in the past? He was a general- he must have made both friends and enemies. Perhaps the motive for his death lies in his career, and is nothing to do with his personal life.”

Edith's face lit up. “Oh Hester. That's brilliant of you! You mean some incident on the battlefield, or in the barracks, that has at long last been revenged? We must find out all we can about the Furnivals' servants. You must tell him-Monk, did you say? Yes, Mr. Monk. You must tell him what we have thought of, and set him about it immediately!”

Hester smiled at the thought of so instructing Monk, but she acquiesced, and before Edith could continue with her ideas, the maid came to a

Apparently Edith had already informed the family that Hester was expected. No remarks were passed on her presence, except a cool acknowledgment of her arrival and an invitation to be seated at the specified place, and a rather perfunctory wish that she should enjoy her meal.

She thanked Felicia and took her seat otherwise in silence.

“I imagine you have seen the newspapers?” Randolph said, glancing around the table. He looked even wearier today than the last time Hester had seen him, but certainly had Monk asked her now if she thought him senile, she would have denied it without doubt. There was an angry intelligence in his eyes, and any querulousness around his mouth or droop to his features was set there by character as much as the mere passage of time.

“Naturally I have seen the headlines,” Felicia said sharply. “I do not care for the rest. There is nothing we can do about it, but we do not have to discuss this with one another. It is like all evil speaking and distasteful speculation: one sets one's mind against it and refuses to be distressed. Would you be so good as to pass me the condiments, Peverell?”

Peverell did as he was bidden, and smiled from the corner of his vision at Hester. There was the same gentleness in his eyes, a mild awareness of humor, as she had observed before. He was an ordinary man-and yet far from ordinary. She could not imagine that Damaris had entertained romantic notions about Maxim Furnival; she was not foolish enough to destroy what she had for a cheap moment of entertainment. For all her flamboyance, she was not a stupid or shallow woman.

“I have not seen the newspapers,” Edith said suddenly, looking at her mother.

“Of course you haven't.” Felicia stared at her with wide eyes. “Nor shall you.”

“What are they saying of Alexandra?” Edith persisted, apparently deaf to the warning note in Felicia's voice.

“Precisely what you would expect,” Felicia answered. “Ignore it.”

“You say that as if we could.” Damaris's tone was sharp, almost an accusation. “Don't think about it, and it is of no importance. Just like that-it is dealt with.”

“You have a great deal yet to learn, my dear,” Felicia said with chill, looking at her daughter in something close to exasperation. “Where is Cassian? He is late. A certain amount of latitude may be allowed, but one must exercise discipline as well.” She reached out her hand and rang the little silver bell.

Almost immediately a footman appeared.

“Go and fetch Master Cassian, James. Tell him he is required at luncheon.”

“Yes ma'am.” And obediently he left.

Randolph grunted, but spoke no words, and addressed himself again to his food.

“I imagine the newspapers write well of General Carlyon.” Hester heard her own voice loud in the silence, sounding clumsy and terribly contrived. But how else was she to serve any purpose here? She could not hope any of them would say or do something in which she could find meaning, simply eating their luncheon. “He had a brilliant career,” she went on. “They are bound to have written of it.”

Randolph looked at her, his heavy face puckered.

“He did,” he agreed. “He was an outstanding man, an ornament to his generation and his family. Although what you can possibly know about it, Miss latterly, I fail to see. I daresay your remark is well meant, and intended as a kindness, and for your civility, I thank you.” He looked anything but grateful.

Hester felt as if she had trespassed by praising him, as though they felt he was their particular property and only they might speak of him.

“I have spent a considerable time in the army myself, Colonel Carlyon,” she said in defense.

“Army!” he snorted with quite open contempt. “Nonsense, young woman! You were a nurse, a skivvy to tend to the slops for the surgeons. Hardly the same thing!”

Her temper frayed raw, and she forgot Monk, Rathbone and Alexandra Carlyon.

“I don't know how you know anything about it,” she said, mimicking his tone savagely and precisely. “You were not there. Or you would be aware that army nursing has changed a great deal. I have watched battles and walked the field afterwards. I have helped surgeons in field hospitals, and I daresay I have known asrmany soldiers in the space of a few years as you have.”

His face was turning a rich plum color and his eyes were bulging.

“And I did not hear General Carlyon's name mentioned by anyone,” she added coldly. “But I now work nursing a Major Tiplady, and he knew of General Carlyon, because he had also served in India, and he spoke of him in some detail. I did not speak without some knowledge. Was I misinformed?”

Randolph was torn between the desire to be thoroughly rude to her and the need to defend his son, his family pride, and to be at least reasonably civil to a guest, even one he had not invited. Family pride won.

“Of course not,” he said grudgingly. “Thaddeus was exceptional. A man not only of military brilliance, but a man without a stain of dishonor on his name.”

Felicia kept her eyes on her plate, her jaw tight. Hester wondered what i

The door opened and a small boy with fair hair and a thin, pale face came into the room; his first glance was to Randolph, then to Felicia.

“I'm sorry, Grandmama,” he said very quietly.

“You are excused,” Felicia replied formally. “Do not make a habit of it, Cassian. It is impolite to be late to meals. Please take your place, and James will bring your luncheon.”

“Yes, Grandmama.” He skirted wide around his grandfather's chair, around Peverell without looking at him, then sat in the empty seat next to Damaris.

Hester resumed eating her meal, but discreetly she looked at him as he kept his eyes down on his plate and without relish began his main course. Since he was too late for soup he was not to be spoiled by being permitted to catch up. He was a handsome child, with honey fair hair and fair skin with a dusting of freckles lending tone to his pallor. His brow was broad, his nose short and already begi