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“Thank you for your comments, Miss Latterly,” Alastair said dryly. “But I really do not think you are sufficiently informed to—”
Deirdra interrupted him. “Yes she is.” But before she could say anything further Alastair commanded she be silent, and he turned to Monk.
“Thank you for your work, Mr. Monk. Do you have documented proof of what you have told us?”
“No.”
“Then I think, in that event, you will keep silent about it until we have made a decision as to what is wisest to do. Tomorrow is Sunday. After kirk you will take luncheon with us, and we shall then discuss this matter to its conclusion. Good day to you, Mr. Monk, Miss Latterly.”
There was nothing to do but accept their dismissal. Monk and Hester walked together into the hall, past the great picture of Hamish, and out into the steadily falling rain.
12
MONK AND HESTER were easily agreed that they also would go to church on Sunday morning. Monk had no intention of worshiping. It was not a subject to which he had given any thought, but it was another opportunity to observe the Farralines. He did not ask Hester her reasons. Presumably they were similar.
They had walked up from the Grassmarket, allowing plenty of time, having previously ascertained the time of the service, and arrived as the congregation was assembling.
They filed in behind a stout matron, leaning on the arm of a grim-faced man carrying his hat in his hand. This couple nodded to acquaintances, and received several acknowledgments in return. Everyone looked extremely sober.
Hester glanced around. It was difficult to recognize the Farraline women because they all wore hats, naturally. To go to church without a hat and gloves would be tantamount to arriving naked. It was easier to distinguish the men; hair color and bearing differed markedly. It did not take her long to find Alastair’s fair head with its faintly thinning patch towards the crown.
As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned half towards them, but apparently it was to nod to the couple just ahead of them.
“Good morning, Fiscal,” the woman said grimly. “A fine day, is it not?” It was a ritual remark. It was beginning to rain and getting rapidly colder.
“Indeed, Mrs. Bain,” he replied. “Very agreeable. Good morning, Mr. Bain.”
“Good morning, Fiscal.” The man inclined his head respectfully and moved on.
“Poor creature,” the woman said as soon as they were past. “What a business for him.”
“Hold your peace, Martha,” the man said crisply. “I’ll not have you gossiping in here of all places. And on the Sabbath too. You should not be talking in kirk at all.”
She blushed angrily, but refused to defend herself.
Hester bit her lip with vicarious frustration.
Monk took her arm and led her, with some difficulty and several apologies for injured dignity and trodden toes, into the pew two rows behind the Farralines. Hester bent her head to pray, and he followed her example, at least outwardly.
More and more people arrived, several glancing at Monk and Hester with surprise and irritation. It was some time before either of them realized that apparently they had taken a place which by custom and tacit rule belonged to someone else. They did not move.
Monk watched, noticing how many people nodded or otherwise paid deference to Alastair. Those who spoke addressed him in a whisper, and by his office rather than his name.
“Such a clever man,” one woman murmured to her neighbor immediately in front of Monk. “I’m glad he didn’t prosecute Mr. Galbraith. I always thought he was innocent anyway. I don’t believe a gentleman like that would ever do such a thing.”
“And Mrs. Forbes’s son as well,” her neighbor replied. “I’m sure that was more of a tragedy than a crime.”
“Quite. Girl was no better than she should be, if you ask me. I know that sort.”
“Don’t we all, my dear. Had a maid like that once myself. Had to get rid of her, of course.”
“His father was a fine man too.” Her eyes returned to Alastair. “Such a pity.”
The organ was playing meditatively. Over to the left someone dropped a hymnbook with a crash. No one looked.
“I didn’t know you knew them.” There was a lift of interest in the woman’s voice in front of Hester, as she half turned her head to hear the better, should her neighbor choose to elaborate.
“Oh yes, quite well.” The neighbor nodded, the feathers in her hat waving. “So handsome, you know. Not like his miserable brother, who drinks like a fish, they say. Never had the talent either. The colonel was such an artist, you know.”
