state of shock, with death, with the physical reality of it, and with the spiritual reality of what he had done.
Tomorrow it might be very different. He might wake to the knowledge and the fear of all the terrible consequences which would follow. Dominic knew the suspicion, the close, crushing terrors which would haunt the house until the truth was known. He had seen it all before, lived through it, the relationships that crumble, the old wounds recalled, the ugly thoughts that would not be dismissed, the trust eaten away day by day.
It was hard to remember that there had also been new friendshipsgained, honor and kindness where he had not looked to find it. At the moment there was only the breaking apart.
Ramsay was giving instructions for the conduct of the funeral, and Dominic had not heard a word of it.
3
C
HARLOTTE PITT WAS
relaxing in the parlor with her feet up on the sewing stool, the fire pleasantly warm and a most enthralling novel in her hands, when she heard the front door open and close. She put down the book with something close to reluctance, even though she was pleased to hear Pitt return. She had been right in the middle of a dramatic scene between two lovers.
Jemima raced downstairs in her nightgown calling out “Papa! Papa!”
Charlotte smiled and went to the door. Daniel, retaining his masculine dignity, was coming down slowly, grinning.
“You are early,” Charlotte observed as Pitt kissed her, then turned his attention temporarily to the children. Jemima was telling him excitedly about a lesson she had learned on Queen Elizabeth and the Spanish Armada. Daniel, at the same time, was trying to explain about steam engines and a wonderful train he wanted to see, and better still, to ride on. He had even learned the fare, and his face was bright with hope.
It was nearly an hour before Pitt was alone with Charlotte and could tell her the extraordinary news of the events in Brunswick Gardens.
“Do you really think the Reverend Parmenter lost his tempercompletely and pushed her down the stairs?” she asked with surprise. “Can it be proved?”
“I don’t know.” He stretched out further, balancing his feet on the fender. It was his favorite position. His slippers were scorched every winter. She was always buying new ones.
“Could she have fallen?” she asked. “People do fall downstairs … sometimes.”
“They don’t shout out ‘No, no!’ and someone’s name if they slip,” he pointed out. “And there was nothing there to trip over. The stairs are black wood, no carpet or stair rods to be loose.”
“One could trip over a skirt, if the hem were down …” she said thoughtfully. “Was it?”
“No. I looked at that. It was perfect.”
“Or even one’s own feet,” she went on. “Were the shoes all right? Nothing loose or broken, no wobbly heels or loose laces? I’ve tripped over my own feet before now.”
“No wobbly heels or laces at all,” he said with a slight smile. “Only a dark stain, which Tellman says comes from something spilled in the conservatory, and that means Mallory Parmenter lied about having seen her this morning.”
“Perhaps he was out of the conservatory for some reason for those few moments?” she suggested. “She went in, but she missed seeing him.”
“No, he wasn’t, or he would have trodden in the same thing when he went out,” he reasoned. “And he hadn’t. Tellman checked for that, too.”
“Does that mean anything?” she asked.
“Probably not, except that he was frightened and told a stupid lie. He didn’t know she called out.”
“Could she have called out ‘No, no,’ to one person and called the Reverend to help her?” she said quickly. “I mean ‘No, no!’ and then his name to call him to come to her?”
He sat up a little, his attention sharpening. “Possibly … just possibly. I shall at least hold it in mind. He admits quarreling with her very badly, but he swears he did not leave the study.”
“Why
Tomorrow it might be very different. He might wake to the knowledge and the fear of all the terrible consequences which would follow. Dominic knew the suspicion, the close, crushing terrors which would haunt the house until the truth was known. He had seen it all before, lived through it, the relationships that crumble, the old wounds recalled, the ugly thoughts that would not be dismissed, the trust eaten away day by day.
It was hard to remember that there had also been new friendshipsgained, honor and kindness where he had not looked to find it. At the moment there was only the breaking apart.
Ramsay was giving instructions for the conduct of the funeral, and Dominic had not heard a word of it.
3
C
HARLOTTE PITT WAS
relaxing in the parlor with her feet up on the sewing stool, the fire pleasantly warm and a most enthralling novel in her hands, when she heard the front door open and close. She put down the book with something close to reluctance, even though she was pleased to hear Pitt return. She had been right in the middle of a dramatic scene between two lovers.
Jemima raced downstairs in her nightgown calling out “Papa! Papa!”
Charlotte smiled and went to the door. Daniel, retaining his masculine dignity, was coming down slowly, grinning.
“You are early,” Charlotte observed as Pitt kissed her, then turned his attention temporarily to the children. Jemima was telling him excitedly about a lesson she had learned on Queen Elizabeth and the Spanish Armada. Daniel, at the same time, was trying to explain about steam engines and a wonderful train he wanted to see, and better still, to ride on. He had even learned the fare, and his face was bright with hope.
It was nearly an hour before Pitt was alone with Charlotte and could tell her the extraordinary news of the events in Brunswick Gardens.
“Do you really think the Reverend Parmenter lost his tempercompletely and pushed her down the stairs?” she asked with surprise. “Can it be proved?”
“I don’t know.” He stretched out further, balancing his feet on the fender. It was his favorite position. His slippers were scorched every winter. She was always buying new ones.
“Could she have fallen?” she asked. “People do fall downstairs … sometimes.”
“They don’t shout out ‘No, no!’ and someone’s name if they slip,” he pointed out. “And there was nothing there to trip over. The stairs are black wood, no carpet or stair rods to be loose.”
“One could trip over a skirt, if the hem were down …” she said thoughtfully. “Was it?”
“No. I looked at that. It was perfect.”
“Or even one’s own feet,” she went on. “Were the shoes all right? Nothing loose or broken, no wobbly heels or loose laces? I’ve tripped over my own feet before now.”
“No wobbly heels or laces at all,” he said with a slight smile. “Only a dark stain, which Tellman says comes from something spilled in the conservatory, and that means Mallory Parmenter lied about having seen her this morning.”
“Perhaps he was out of the conservatory for some reason for those few moments?” she suggested. “She went in, but she missed seeing him.”
“No, he wasn’t, or he would have trodden in the same thing when he went out,” he reasoned. “And he hadn’t. Tellman checked for that, too.”
“Does that mean anything?” she asked.
“Probably not, except that he was frightened and told a stupid lie. He didn’t know she called out.”
“Could she have called out ‘No, no,’ to one person and called the Reverend to help her?” she said quickly. “I mean ‘No, no!’ and then his name to call him to come to her?”
He sat up a little, his attention sharpening. “Possibly … just possibly. I shall at least hold it in mind. He admits quarreling with her very badly, but he swears he did not leave the study.”
“Why
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