Page 56 of The English Wife

“Hello?” a male voice called. Then footsteps on the stairs. “Miss Van Duyvil?”

Janie hurried after Viola, catching up to her on the landing, where Mr. Burke’s head was just visible between the balusters. “Mr. Burke.” Relief made her sharp, mostly with herself. “How did you find us here?”

Viola gathered the duck in her arms, stepping back into the shadows.

Mr. Burke ventured the last few steps. He smiled winningly. “The dragon at the house sent me packing, so I decided to set up my own search party.”

Janie folded her arms across her chest. “You mean you were trespassing.”

Mr. Burke propped an elbow on the newel post. “You didn’t telephone for assistance last night.”

“In other words,” said Janie, “I didn’t provide you with an invitation and so you decided to invite yourself.”

“If I waited to be invited, I would never go anywhere.” Detaching himself from the banister, Mr. Burke stepped past her, holding out a hand to Viola in a businesslike fashion. “Hello. You must be Miss Viola?”

“Yes,” said Viola importantly. “And this is Polly the duck.”

Mr. Burke bowed to duck. “Hello, Miss Duck. It’s a delight to make your acquaintance.”

“She’s not Miss Duck. She’s the duck.”

“Miss the Duck,” Mr. Burke corrected himself gravely. “I do beg your pardon.”

Something that was almost a giggle escaped from Viola’s mouth. She considered a moment. “You may hold Polly.”

“Thank you kindly.” Mr. Burke gathered the wooden duck in his arms.

“No, you hold her by the string. Like this.”

As Viola demonstrated the proper method of duck-wrangling, Janie said quietly over her head, “Did your business prosper in Carmel?”

“That depends on what you mean by prosper.” The humor faded from Mr. Burke’s eyes as he straightened. He glanced down at Viola before saying, in carefully oblique terms, “The coroner intends to reopen the inquest shortly. You’re to be called as a witness.”

“I see.” Janie’s throat tightened. Standing up in front of strangers. To speak of her brother’s death. Taking refuge in sarcasm, she said, “How very kind of you to come all this way to tell me.”

“The soul of chivalry, that’s me,” said Mr. Burke. But he spoiled it by adding, with something very like real compassion, “The coroner seems like a reasonable man. It will be a few questions and over quickly.”

“Thank you.” Janie pressed her lips together, ashamed of showing weakness. “I’ve never seen an inquest before.”

Polly the duck thumped against Janie’s hem. Dark eyes glared up from grown-up to grown-up. “You’re not looking.”

Janie’s mother would have sent Janie to her room for interrupting an adult conversation—that is, if Janie had been allowed anywhere near adult entertainments. Mr. Burke appeared unperturbed. He doffed his hat, saying formally, “Miss Viola, I believe Miss the Duck needs a place to stretch her wings properly. Will you do me the honor of walking with me in the garden? We’ll let your aunt come, too.”

“How kind,” said Janie.

Softly, under cover of returning his hat to his head, Burke said, “There was something else.”

Janie could feel the prickles start in her fingertips. What else? What more? She felt as though she were blundering through a house in the dark, stumbling into rooms that were suddenly in the wrong places, tripping over furniture that had never been there.

“All right,” she said slowly. “Shall we, Viola?”

Viola hung back, Polly the duck’s string clutched tight in her fingers, her back to the lightly papered wall. “I don’t want to go.”

Had Viola been sneaking back to the old house, making a nest in the nurse’s bed? But Viola wouldn’t have made that fire. She wouldn’t have burned her mother’s letters.

“We can come back again.” Janie held out a hand to her niece, half expecting to be rejected. “I will take you back.”

Viola didn’t take her hand, but she did afford her a regal nod.