The Children of Silence by Linda Stratmann Page A

respect. From that moment I have neither seen nor heard from him. It is my belief that he met with an accident and has either lost his memory or, sadly, is dead and his body not found. I have every sympathy with his family: it is a very trying time for them all. His brother has left no stone unturned to discover the truth, and he has had his own troubles, as I expect you know.’
    ‘I did not know.’
    ‘Mr Lionel Antrobus’ wife passed away just over a year ago, after a long and painful illness. It was a very distressing time.’
    ‘I am surprised that he was not therefore more sympathetic to his sister-in-law’s affliction,’ commented Frances.
    ‘Ah, well, there is no love lost there,’ said Luckhurst. ‘He was not an easy man to talk to even before he was widowed and less so now. He has seen real bodily suffering and has no patience with anything he thinks is all in the mind.’
    ‘He told me that his brother was too honourable to desert his wife. Do you agree?’
    ‘I do. Many another man has to endure the unhappiness that comes with a wife’s delicate health. Some can bear it, others cannot. Antrobus did all that he ought to have done, and it was hard for him as the complaint was so mysterious.’
    ‘Were they a contented couple before Mrs Antrobus’ illness?’
    ‘Oh, if ever a couple married for love it was they! Do you know,’ added Luckhurst, with the serene expression of a man recalling happy memories, ‘I was present on the day they met. In fact it was also the day that I first met them both. There was a gathering at the home of a mutual friend. Miss Harriett Pearce was such a beauty. She is handsome now, but back then she illuminated the room! So enchanting, and with a pretty soft musical voice and dainty manners. A man could not help but fall under her spell. Her father, I was told, was a good, hardworking man who lacked both ambition and fortune, but somehow that mattered nothing. Had I been taller I might have wooed her myself, but it is not the fashion to declare one’s admiration for a lady from a footstool. After the ladies retired Antrobus spoke very knowledgeably about the tobacco trade. I thought then that he was a man to watch, and we agreed to meet again and talk business. But when we did all his conversation was of the beautiful young girl who had captured his heart. He saw her constantly and six months later they were engaged to be married, but at the time it looked as if they might have to wait several years before a wedding date could be set. He was impatient to claim his bride, but marriage is an expensive business and a man likes to make his fortune before he has a wife and children to spend it for him. But then his uncle died and left him a handsome legacy, so they were married soon afterwards.’
    ‘And was it a happy marriage?’ asked Frances, gently bringing him back to her query.
    Luckhurst knew that he had strayed from the point and gave a rueful smile, earning Frances’ instant forgiveness. ‘I haven’t really answered, have I? But there was a purpose to my story. I suppose they were as happy as many other couples. But Edwin once told me that his uncle’s death, the very event that had enabled him to marry, weighed heavily upon him. His uncle suffered from terrible headaches that sometimes left him melancholy and, well, it was deemed to be an accident, but those who knew him suspected otherwise. It placed a cloud over the marriage from the beginning, a cloud that only grew darker with his wife’s illness.’
    ‘You are more sympathetic to Mrs Antrobus’ sufferings than her brother-in-law,’ observed Frances, ‘and possibly more sympathetic than her husband.’
    ‘I am no expert on diseases of the ear but I can see when someone is in pain. The doctors who suggested she was feigning should be made to endure what she does for just one day and then they would change their tune.’ He made no reference to his own health, but Frances felt sure that he was no stranger