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“I know,” Rebecca said quickly, putting her hand on Jemima’s arm again. “Please don’t try to explain. You’ll only make it worse.”
“I should remember that,” Jemima admitted ruefully. “And you’re sure it was Philip Sidney?”
“No, I had no idea who it was. But he had his height and build, and his hair color. And my father saw him in the corridor outside, in the light, just for a moment. It is difficult to remember and describe a stranger, but you know them easily if it’s someone you’ve seen quite often.” Rebecca hesitated, uncertainty plain in her face.
Jemima felt sure that something deeper troubled her. Was it simply guilt that she had been so foolish and cared for someone who had so appallingly used her, or had she perhaps led him on, trusting him? There could be so much more to this, delicate, tenuous, but acutely painful. “Never mind,” Jemima said quickly. “I just thought you should know so you are not caught unprepared. If it ever gets that far, you may be called to the stand.”
“Who would call me?” Rebecca was astounded.
“The defense, I suppose, if…I don’t know.”
“But that’s your brother!”
“I don’t know what will happen. If it comes up, if your father says anything about the assault, you may have no choice but to stand witness.”
“He wouldn’t do that! I will…”
“Refuse? And leave your father out there, sounding as if he made it up? And if you do refuse, it would look like the same thing as saying it didn’t happen,” Jemima pointed out.
“But it did! Look!” Rebecca pulled the collar of her dress away from her neck and showed the scar, still pink and a little inflamed in places.
“I don’t doubt you,” Jemima said sincerely. “I just want you to have the chance of following it up or not, with the correct information to make up your own mind. If I were in your place, I can only imagine what I would feel. I don’t know, but I think I might prefer not to tell the whole world about it.”
Rebecca stared straight ahead of her. “I’ll have to think” was all she could manage. “Now let us please talk of other things. Tell me about Cassie. How is she?”
* * *
—
WHEN THEY GOT back to the hotel, the friends found Bernadette already waiting for them. She was polite to Jemima, but clearly concerned for Rebecca.
“I’m fine, thank you, Mama. Please don’t treat me like an invalid, or I shall begin to feel like one.”
“Was it pleasant?” Bernadette asked. She glanced at Jemima, then back at her daughter. “I hope Jemima didn’t…” She was looking for a courteous way of phrasing something without being openly unpleasant.
Jemima smiled. “Rebecca was kind enough to ask me about Cassie…my daughter,” she added, in case Bernadette should have forgotten her name. “What mother is not delighted to answer every such question?”
Bernadette relaxed, almost smiling. It altered her face, giving life to its almost ceramic-like perfection. “Of course. How is she?”
“Saying more every day. ‘No’ was a big discovery a little while ago. Now it is ‘why?’?”
Bernadette actually smiled; the subject was safe.
Ten minutes later, as Jemima was preparing to excuse herself and leave, Tobias Thorwood arrived, accompanied by another man, lean but elegant and at least two inches taller than Tobias, who was more than average height himself. This man was not handsome, but he was definitely distinguished, and his clothes were beautifully tailored. He had an air of confidence about him that was surprisingly comfortable, as if he knew in some personal way that everything was in control. Nothing could ever make him panic. He followed Tobias, who was, as always, perfectly dressed, pleasant-looking in his own way, thick curly hair, a wide smile and very open face in comparison with his friend—and they were clearly friends.
“Ah, Jemima,” Tobias said quickly. “Come to see Rebecca? How kind of you. I’m sure your company will raise her spirits. May I introduce you to Sir John Armitage, from the British Embassy in Washington. John, this is the English wife of young Flannery I was mentioning to you.”
“How do you do, Mrs. Flannery?” Armitage said pleasantly. “Are you back in London for a while?”
“A few weeks,” Jemima replied. She wanted to avoid the subject of Sidney and anything to do with the embassy in Washington—or with the police, for that matter. “It is the first time I have been back since my marriage.”
“And your family has not been out?” Armitage asked. “Sometimes I forget just how far it is.”
/> “My parents have, but not my brother,” Jemima replied, and then wished immediately she had not. Either her father’s occupation, or Daniel’s, would strike far too closely to the subject she wanted to avoid. She did not look at Rebecca, because she could imagine her stiffening already, prepared to find a way of leaving them that would not seem churlish and embarrass her parents in front of this man. Jemima must fill the silence. Armitage was staring at her expectantly. She felt like an intruder who must explain her presence. “Rebecca was so kind to me when I was first in Washington,” she said too quickly. “I wanted to show her some of my city, and it is a lovely day for a walk.”
Tobias was watching her. He seemed remarkably tense. His shoulders were hunched inside his jacket.
Armitage broke in. “Mrs. Thorwood,” he said to Bernadette. “If you recall, you mentioned the other evening certain music you enjoyed. I brought a program for the Promenade concerts at the Queens Hall and I thought you might find something there that you like. You’re in London for so short a time, it would be a shame if you were not able to spend one evening with the timelessly beautiful.”
