A cold treachery - Charles Todd [73]
Cummins tore his eyes from Elizabeth Fraser's face. “I should stay to see if Miss Fraser is all right . . .”
Mrs. Cummins caught her breath on a sob and walked quickly out of the room, hurrying down the passage. They could hear her footsteps flying up the stairs.
“Your place is with your wife,” Rutledge told Cummins curtly.
Reluctantly the innkeeper left the room, casting a last glance at the woman in the wheeled chair.
Miss Ashton declared, “I'm going for a walk. I can't sit here and do nothing!” She turned and followed Cummins down the passage.
Dr. Jarvis was replacing instruments in his satchel, wrapping them in cloth as he put them away. “I don't think Robinson did much damage,” he told Rutledge as he worked. “To himself or to Elizabeth here. He was distraught, and overly emotional, but I don't think he had the heart to finish the job.”
Miss Fraser was looking down at her hand. There was a rising bruise on her cheek where Robinson must have struck her as they struggled. Rutledge swore under his breath. He wanted to take Robinson by the throat and shake him. The force of the feeling surprised him.
Dr. Jarvis considered her for a moment. “Would you care for a sedative, my dear? Something to soothe—”
“No. I must see to the dinner—”
“I'll leave something then, in the event it's needed later. I have another patient to see to, a broken collarbone. Fell off his roof trying to push out the snow. If you need me, send for me.”
He nodded to Rutledge, and was gone. From the yard they could hear him speaking to Greeley, who had just pulled in. The two men left together.
There was silence in the kitchen.
Then Elizabeth Fraser said again, “I was so frightened—!” Her voice was soft, as if she wasn't aware she was speaking aloud.
For want of something constructive to do, Rutledge began to make tea, and after a few minutes set a cup before her. She drank it down, her left hand shaking only slightly as she lifted it to her lips.
“Ask Mrs. Cummins or Miss Ashton to help you with the meal. You shouldn't disturb that bandage for twenty-four hours.”
“You sound like Dr. Jarvis!” She smiled wryly. “But then in the war, you must have seen far more terrible injuries than mine. This will heal in no time.”
He didn't answer her, standing at the window looking out, sorting through his emotions. He had saved Janet Ashton's life, but there was no sense of warmth between them. They had become antagonists over the murders, and her determination to force the issue kept her at arm's length from everyone. He wondered why Gerald had chosen one over the other. Because Grace was vulnerable, with two fatherless children, bringing out his protective nature? Was it in fact Janet Ashton's strength that had seemed unfeminine and hard to him? And was that why Gerald had been kind to Elizabeth Fraser? Because she was vulnerable in her own fashion?
Yet he himself had seen another side of Elizabeth Fraser. She possessed a gallant spirit, taking her disability in stride, earning her keep without complaint in this house of tensions between husband and wife. He wondered why she stayed. And again he came to the conclusion that need had forced her into what might become an intolerable situation.
Because Harry Cummins was keenly aware of her vulnerability, too.
“I understand, really I do,” she was saying. “He's half mad with grief and frustration. But it's such a waste. There's been enough bloodshed already. What good—what possible good—could it do to shed more?”
“I expect he didn't think about good. Only about his own pain.” Rutledge knelt and began quietly washing up the blood from the floor, collecting the bits of teacup.
“You needn't do that—” Elizabeth Fraser protested.
“Why not?” he asked, forcing a smile. “It's a way of dealing with my own frustrations.”
She looked askance, but didn't take it any further.
Tipping the broken china into the dustbin, he closed the door to shut out