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Monk nodded. “They’re in the kitchen, getting cleaned up and fed.” Gabriel would know what he meant. “They’ve been on the streets since they were three years old.”
Gabriel’s face also filled with pity, and a hard, hurting rage. Even his own disfigurement could not mask it.
“We’ll look after them,” he said without hesitation.
Monk did not argue. He was so cold that in spite of the pleasure he felt, the almost overwhelming sense of exhilaration and relief, he was now shaking and his legs had almost lost sensation. Shivers were running through him and his teeth were chattering.
Hester must have noticed, because she excused them and took him to the guest bathroom and sent for hot water while she then went to Gabriel’s wardrobe to find him clean, dry clothes.
Afterwards Martha sent up a bowl of hot thick soup from the kitchen and Monk sat in a chair by the banked-up fire in Hester’s sitting room enjoying the heat inside and out, and the savory taste in his mouth of chicken and herbs.
Hester was watching him, her eyes narrowed, her brows drawn together.
“Did you really mean it that you believe Delphine Lambert is the same person as Dolly Jackson?”
He had no doubt. “Yes. If you look at those girls, especially Leda, the resemblance is startling. It is almost a mirror image, only distorted by the mouth. But you can see what she was meant to be. No one could look at them both and not think of it. She had not only one deformed child, Hester, she had two! No wonder she had to leave them behind her if she was going to make her way. She could never admit that to anyone. It’s like having madness in the blood. What chance would Zillah have of marrying well?”
“But she’s not related!” Hester protested, though her voice was hollow. She knew, as Monk did, that even if they knew Zillah was adopted people would not make that distinction. She was looking at him steadily, searching his face, waiting for him to go on.
“She knew I was looking into the family past, anything I could find that could have put Melville off marrying Zillah. She must have known that if I went on long enough I should find that Zillah was adopted. Perhaps if Melville had gone on fighting the case, I would even have traced her back as far as Putney … and Samuel Jackson.”
“If Keelin had lived?” She repeated the words in a voice little more than a whisper. “Are you saying that Delphine Lambert could have killed her?”
“I don’t know … perhaps I am.” He watched her face, seeing her eyes widen and slowly belief follow incredulity.
“But how?” she breathed softly. “How did she do it? She was never alone with her … you said so. In fact, you said there was no way anyone could have poisoned her. She didn’t eat or drink anything in the court all afternoon.” She shook her head. “You couldn’t even work out how she could have taken it herself.”
“So obviously we missed something.” He poked his finger at the table in which his empty soup bowl rested. “She did take it. That is the one thing we can be certain of. It was done … whomever by. We missed it.”
She thought for a few moments in silence, her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her hands.
“Tell me about the day in court,” she asked at length. “Describe it for me as if you wanted me to draw it for you, knowing I wasn’t there. Treat it as if I had never been in a court before. Don’t leave out anything you saw.”
There was no point in it, but he obliged. He told her what the room was like, where everyone sat, how they were dressed and what function they filled. She listened intently, even though most of it was already familiar to her.
“And the adjournment?” she asked. “What happened then?”
He laughed abruptly. “Keelin came out of the courtroom and stood a little to the left of the doorway talking to Rathbone for a few minutes. Then Rathbone left with Sacheverall to go and argue again. I don’t know where they went, only that it was entirely fruitless.”
“How long were they gone?” she interrupted, looking hopeful.
He shook his head. “About ten minutes, maybe fifteen. But Keelin didn’t eat or drink anything, nor did she go to the cloakroom. She was there in the hall all the time, in full public view.”
“Alone?” she persisted, refusing to give up.
“Yes …” He pictured it vividly, it seemed so unnecessarily, publicly hurtful. “Except that Delphine went over to her with a packet, spoke to her for a moment, then when Keelin held up her hands, Delphine opened the packet and tipped it out into her cupped palms. It was jewelry she had given Zillah. They were dusty …”
“Dust?” Hester said slowly.
“Possibly powder … I don’t know.”
“But something?”
“Yes … why? It wasn’t anything edible. Delphine did not pass her anything she could eat or drink—just the jewelry. She tipped it out so she could itemize each piece and make Keelin acknowledge that she had received it all back—count out each item.”
“What did Melville do then?” Hester was leaning forward now.
“She put the jewelry in her inside pocket,” he continued. “She looked … wretched … as if she had been kicked.”
