Page 33 of The Vanished Sister

“I have never seen those clothes in my life,” said Everett Carstairs. “That is yet another reason her maid should be brought in. A man might remain ignorant of his wife’s sartorial acquisitions until she parades them before him. But a lady’s maid should be able to identify an outfit from her mistress’s wardrobe, whether or not it had been worn previously.”

His tone was patient, even kindly. When he’d arrived this morning, he had been jittery and haggard. But now that he’d seen the body, despite his still bloodshot eyes, his recovery had been remarkable.

Now he was lit from within by hope, a glowing presence.

Which nonplussed and perhaps even discomfited Inspector MacDonald. He jotted down something in his notebook—a nervous squiggle rather than actual words, in Charlotte’s opinion. “Still,” he persisted, “a woman is missing and a woman of similar coloring and build has been found. The most logical explanation points to her being Mrs. Carstairs.”

Mr. Carstairs was unaffected. Indeed his solace seemed to form a metaphysical armor that rendered him invulnerable. “I cannot accept that, Inspector. I have already mentioned that the physical attributes of the deceased are not those of my wife. But even if the woman’s head had been entirely bashed in, you couldn’t make me believe that she was my wife.”

Charlotte’s ears perked up—that was one assertive declaration. Inspector MacDonald narrowed his eyes.

“My wife, if I may say so, is well-placed in life,” continued Mr. Carstairs, seemingly oblivious to the reaction of his listeners. “She has robust health, good children, and a generous allowance. She is admired by friends and neighbors and revered by her staff. Moreover, the high regard in which she is held did not fall into her lap simply because she became my wife. No, she fought for it. She won all the praise and honor that came her way.

“She remembers all the effort she had put in and she appreciates the fruit of her labor, Inspector. She is not the kind to leave a note and walk too close to the edge of a high cliff—she has too much to enjoy in the present.”

Inspector MacDonald considered Mr. Carstairs, as did Charlotte. His admiration for his wife sounded genuine, but was it? “If that’s what you hold to be true, sir, then what good reason did your wife have to run away?”

Some of Mr. Carstairs’s newly acquired glow faded. He pinched his nose, reluctance rising from him like a fog at sea. But he said, slowly, his gaze on his half-empty teacup, “There was a time about fifteen years ago, when she left Noble House with no word to anyone. It was January; we had no guests. I told the children and the senior servants that she had gone to see her sister—”

Charlotte almost raised an eyebrow but stopped herself.

“Within a few days I found her at one of our lesser estates. We spent a week there.”

Mr. Carstairs smiled briefly, as if at a secret memory. Inspector MacDonald looked both mortified and fascinated. Charlotte recalled what Livia had said in her letters, her sense that the senior Carstairses remained ferociously aware of each other.

“Until I was recalled by my son’s telegram, I thought the same thing would happen this time.”

That they would again spend a week completely wrapped up in each other?

Inspector MacDonald cleared his throat. “Mr. Carstairs, will you give us an account of your movements from the dinner during which Mrs. Carstairs was last seen to when you left from the Ilfracombe railway station?”

Mr. Carstairs started, as if he had been caught in some grand reverie. He adjusted the lapels of his daycoat. “At the conclusion of dinner, Mrs. Carstairs and the ladies withdrew. The gentlemen and I rejoined them after the usual amount of time. It had been a long day; our guests retired fairly early. By ten o’clock, only Mr. and Mrs. Stanmore Newell and Mrs. Albright remained, and they left within another five minutes.

“My wife and I went up together. We spoke of the play that Mrs. Stanmore Newell wished to stage for the entertainment of the guests. I said that I would happily take part in the preparation after I sent Mrs. Albright home in the morning. Mrs. Carstairs told me that my participation would be highly welcome and bade me a good night. She then went into her room.”

“Was that the last time you saw your wife?”

“The last time for now,” said Mr. Carstairs firmly. “I will see her again.”

His confidence was infectious. Even Sergeant Perkins peered up from his stenography, a look of wonder on his face.

“Very well. Please continue,” said Inspector MacDonald.

“I wished to read before bed and went down to the library for a book. I ran into Mrs. Albright there and we decided on a game of chess to reminisce. But we were only halfway through our match when my daughter-in-law, whom I’d barely seen since we arrived on the coast, came in. After some small talk, Mrs. Albright retired. I also left the library and went to bed.

“In the morning—”

Inspector MacDonald interrupted. “You noticed nothing during the night?”

Mr. Carstairs shook his head. “I slept soundly. In the morning I took Mrs. Albright home. By the time I returned, I learned that my wife hadn’t been seen all day. We entered her room with the spare key. And when we found a note in her handwriting, I became convinced that she had reenacted her flight of fifteen years ago, except in a more public manner.

“I wanted to leave right away to find her, but the children were disoriented by her disappearance. We had to discuss how best to look for her, and I could not dissuade my younger son Charles from coming with me. So we set out for the railway station together and Charles found a hawker who claimed that she’d bought a ticket for my wife for Taunton.

“At that point, I ordered Charlie back to High Burrow and took the next train out myself. I had to change trains in Taunton, so I made some inquiries but discovered nothing, which didn’t particularly concern me because I did not believe Taunton to be her final destination. It was late when I reached London. Our London house stood empty, but at that point it was too late for further travel.

“Yesterday I went about London to her favorite places, in case she’d stayed in a hotel instead. I found the cable when I went back to the town house and left as soon as I’d gathered my things.”

“How did you feel upon reading the cable?”