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He turned to Oonagh. She was surveying the table, watching everyone to assure herself they had sufficient and were comfortable. He could afford only a moment to look at her, or she would see him. Her gown also was well cut, simple, and more fashionable than Deirdra’s. It was not just her fire and her intelligence which made it so. Whatever Deirdra spent her money on, it was not her mourning clothes.
The meal progressed with polite conversation about nothing in particular, and when it was over Kenneth excused himself, to Alastair’s annoyance and a sarcastic comment from Quinlan, and the rest of the company retired to the withdrawing room to take up occupations suitable to the Sabbath. Alastair shut himself away in his study to read, although whether it was th
e Scriptures or not he did not say, and the question from Quinlan went unanswered. Oonagh and Eilish took up embroidery; Deirdra said she had a duty visit to make to a neighbor who was ill, which passed without remark. Apparently she was known to the family, and Deirdra called upon her regularly. Quinlan picked up a newspaper—to one or two looks of disapproval, which he ignored—and Baird said he was going to write letters.
Monk took the opportunity to find the domestic staff and question them about the day Hester had been in the house.
It was a difficult task. Their memories were clouded and distorted by their knowledge of Mary’s death and their conviction that Hester was to blame. Impressions were useless, only facts had any hope of representing truth, and even they were suspect. Hindsight blurred previous certainties and lent conviction to others which had been only thoughts at the time.
No one argued as to when she had arrived or left, or that she had taken breakfast in the kitchen, then Oonagh had taken her to meet Mary Farraline. The women had had both elevenses and luncheon together. Presumably what Hester had done between was uncertain. One maid recalled seeing her in the library; someone else thought she might have gone upstairs, but she would not swear to it. Undoubtedly she had taken a rest upstairs in the afternoon, and yes of course she could have been in Mary’s dressing room and done all manner of things.
Yes, the lady’s maid had shown her Mary’s clothes, her cases and most particularly the medicine chest. That was her job, wasn’t it? She was employed to give Mrs. Farraline her medicine. How could she do it if she were not shown where it was?
No one blamed her for that.
Didn’t they indeed? Just look at the expressions on their faces, if that was what you thought. Listen to what they whispered to one another when they thought she wasn’t listening.
By five o’clock, as it was getting dusk, Monk gave up. It was extremely dispiriting. There was very little that he could prove, or disprove, and in view of what Oonagh had said about the jewel case being with Mary on the train, it was hardly of any importance anyway.
He was bitterly discouraged. All he had learned in three days was nebulous, nothing was certain except that Hester had had the opportunity, the means were to hand and she had the knowledge to use them more than almost anyone else, and the motive was apparent—the pearl brooch—hardly a motive for any member of the family.
He returned to the withdrawing room angry and fighting despair.
“Did you learn anything?” Eilish asked as he came in.
He had already decided what he would say, and he composed himself with an effort.
“Only what I expected,” he replied, forcing a smile that was a matter of lips bared over his teeth.
“I see.”
“Well, what did you think?” Quinlan looked up from his newspaper. “You don’t imagine one of us did it, do you?”
“Why not?” Baird snapped. “If I were defending Miss Latterly, that is exactly what I would think.”
“Indeed?” Quinlan swung around to face him. “And why would you have murdered Mother-in-law, Baird? Did you quarrel with her? Did she know something about you that the rest of us don’t? Or was it for Oonagh’s inheritance? Or was Mary going to make you keep your eyes off my wife?”
Baird shot out of his chair and lunged towards Quinlan, but Oonagh was there before him, standing between them, her face white.
He stopped abruptly, almost knocking into her.
Quinlan sat perfectly still, the sneer frozen on his face, his eyes wide.
“Stop it!” Oonagh said between her teeth. “This is indecent and quite ridiculous.” She took a deep, shaking breath. “Baird, please … we are all upset with what has happened. Quin is behaving very badly, but you are only making it worse.” She smiled at him, staring into his angry face, and very slowly he relaxed and took a step backwards.
“I’m sorry….” he apologized, not to Quin but to his wife.
Oonagh’s smile became a little more certain. “I know you were defending me, as well as yourself, but there is no need. Quin has always been jealous. It happens to men with such beautiful wives. Although, heaven knows, there is no need.” She swung around to Quinlan, smiling at him also. “Eilish is yours, my dear, and has been for years. But she is part of the whole family, and everyone with eyes will admire her beauty. You shouldn’t resent that. It is a compliment to you also. Eilish, dear …”
Eilish looked at her sister, her face scarlet.
“Please assure Quin of your undivided loyalty. I’m sure you do so often … but once again? For peace?”
Very slowly Eilish obeyed, turning to her husband, then back towards Baird, and forcing herself to look into her husband’s face and curve her lips into a smile.
“Of course,” she said softly. “I wish you wouldn’t say such things, Quin. I have never done anything to give you cause, I swear.”
Quinlan looked at Eilish, then at Oonagh. For a second no one moved, then slowly he relaxed and smiled as well.
