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“But what does Sixsmith want?” she said as much to herself as to him.
“Money? Power? Love? Escape from something?” She turned a little towards him. “Do you suppose it was because of Mrs. Argyll? She’s in love with him, I think. And her husband is a cold man. She must feel terribly alone.”
“Weren’t Mr. ’Avilland ’er pa, too?” he asked.
“Yes. I don’t believe she knew the assassin was going to kill her father. And afterwards she thought it was her husband who had done it. Maybe she still doesn’t know it was Sixsmith, and we can’t prove it!”
“But ’e knows,” Scuff pointed out. “So ’e din’t do it for ’er! If yer love someone, yer din’t kill ’er pa.”
“No.” She stared up at the ceiling, the faintest of lights coming through the curtains from the streetlamps outside. “Maybe he doesn’t love her so much as just want her. It isn’t the same.”
“Mebbe ’e just ’ates Mr. Argyll,” Scuff said thoughtfully. “Yer gotta ’member ’e made it look like it were Mr. Argyll wot paid the assassin. An’ it were Mr. Argyll’s company wot caused the cave-in, and Mr. Argyll wot’s goin’ ter prisin, or mebbe the rope, eh?”
“That’s an awful lot of hate,” she said quietly, shivering again in spite of herself. “Why would anyone hate that much?”
“I dunno,” he answered. “Must ’a bin summink bad.”
“It must have been,” she agreed, but her mind was beginning to wonder what Jenny had felt. Did she believe that when her husband was imprisoned, or even hanged, she would be rescued from her boredom and emotional desert by Sixsmith? Was she so in love with him that she had thought no further than that?
What would happen when Argyll was shown to be innocent and Sixsmith guilty? Jenny had lied about who told her to write the letter; that was what had turned the tide against Argyll. Sixsmith knew that! What sort of future awaited her, then? Had she used Sixsmith to get rid of Argyll, so that her children would inherit the company, since Toby was also dead? And they would get whatever James Havilland had possessed also, since Mary was gone as well. Did she imagine that this would hold Sixsmith to her, and was that what she wanted? Surely if she had any sense she would fear for her own life.
Or did she believe he truly loved her?
“Yer’ve thought of summink, ’aven’t yer?” Scuff whispered beside her.
“Yes,” she answered honestly. “I need to go and see Mrs. Argyll. She lied in court, and she needs to know what that could cost her. I’ll send a letter first thing to ask Margaret Ballinger to come to sit with y
ou until I get back.”
“I don’ need no one,” he said instantly. “I’m almost better.”
“No, you aren’t,” she retorted. “And whether you need anyone or not, I need there to be someone here, so I can stop worrying about you and keep my mind on what I’m doing. Don’t argue with me! I’ve made up my mind. And you’ll like Margaret, I expect.”
“Mr. Monk said yer as stubborn as an army mule.”
“Did he indeed! Well, Mr. Monk wouldn’t know an army mule if it kicked him!”
Scuff giggled. Obviously the idea entertained him.
“But I would!” she added, before he got any ideas of insubordination.
“Yer’d kick it back,” he said with immense satisfaction, and moved the last couple of inches until he was next to her. She put an arm around him, very lightly. In five minutes he was asleep.
In the morning she sent one of the local boys to take a message to Margaret, wait for her answer, and return with it. She gave him fare for a hansom both ways, and something for himself. It was extravagant, but she judged it necessary, not only for her own peace of mind but for Monk’s also. She had not misread the affection in his face for Scuff, no matter how carefully he tried to mask it.
She arrived at the Argyll house a little after ten o’clock. It was strange to realize that the rest of the world still believed Argyll guilty and Sixsmith innocent. For a moment terror overtook her as she walked across the pavement to the steps up to the front door. What if Sixsmith was there already? If he and Jenny were lovers, they might have celebrated their victory together.
No, that would be foolish, even if Argyll had already been arrested. It might arouse suspicions. In order to preserve any dignity or belief in her, Jenny Argyll would have to play the shocked and grieving wife rescued in time by the innocent man. They would be two victims together of Argyll’s wickedness.
Hester straightened her shoulders and mounted the steps to the front door, head high.
The bell was answered by a red-eyed parlor maid, and Hester told her that she was here to see Mrs. Argyll on a matter of great importance and urgency. Hester guessed from the girl’s appearance that Argyll had already been arrested.
“I’m sorry, madam, but Mrs. Argyll is unwell,” the maid began. “She isn’t receiving today.”
“I was in court yesterday,” Hester replied. “What I have to say will prove Mr. Argyll’s innocence.” She did not add that it would also prove Mrs. Argyll’s guilt.
The parlor maid’s eyes opened wide, then she stepped back and invited Hester in. She was flustered, happy, and still frightened. She left Hester in the withdrawing room, the only place even remotely warm from the embers of the previous night’s fire. Such domestic duties had been utterly neglected that day.
