A False Mirror - Charles Todd [53]
“Because she loves Hamilton, after all?”
“Because he’s better off than Mr. Mallory. She’s a little hussy, that one, and she married Mr. Hamilton for his money. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you the same.”
And if Hamilton was dead, she’d inherit that money…assuming she came through this ordeal unscathed.
It was, Hamish commented as Rutledge left Nan sitting there and rejoined a very tense Mallory in the passage, a very good motive for murder.
They walked through the house in silence. Then, at the door, Mallory asked Rutledge quietly, making certain that his voice didn’t carry up the stairs or into the drawing room, “Are you keeping something from me? Did he say anything?”
“Why should I lie to you? He was in no state to answer questions. But we can hope that by tomorrow the news is better. Mallory, listen to me, encourage Mrs. Hamilton to remember the names of wedding guests and friends she and Hamilton visited in London. It could be your salvation if Reston is in the clear.”
With that he stepped outside and walked on, without turning back.
12
The child began to scream at two in the morning. When Nanny failed to comfort the boy, she went to his mother’s room and knocked.
“He’s hysterical. I don’t understand why, there’s nothing amiss that I can find.” The anxiety in her normally calm voice was a counterpoint to the heartbreaking wails issuing from the nursery.
“Should we summon Dr. Granville?” Mrs. Cornelius asked, quickly knotting her dressing gown around her. “Is he feverish, you think? Has he been sick?”
“He’s very well. It was the window, you see. He insisted I close it and put down the shade. He said something out there wanted in.”
“Was the shade raised? Whatever for?” Mrs. Cornelius followed Nanny down the passage and opened the nursery door. She could hear her son before she got there, sobbing inconsolably now and calling for her. She crossed to the bed and put her arms around him. He clung to her, burying his face in the dark hair that tumbled down her shoulder.
“What is it, my love, what is it?” she repeated in a singsong voice, ignoring the hovering nanny. But he shook his head with some force, as if he didn’t want to tell her.
Nanny said softly, “Sometimes in the night, he’ll wake up and go to the window seat. It looks out to the sea. He likes that. He’s learned to lift the shade for himself.”
“Was it the sea that frightened you?” she asked the clinging child. But he shook his head again. “Or the mist? You’ve seen mists before, haven’t you, my love?”
Nanny had closed the window but had not pulled down the shade.
Mrs. Cornelius turned to peer out. This window looked down on the street but she could see the water just beyond the next house but one. Or could have done, in the moonlight. A sea mist had crept in, a filmy white wraith that made the street and the rooftops and the outlines of houses seem unfamiliar and unfriendly.
Cradling the child in her arms, she shivered. Anything could be out there, she thought. What had Jeremy seen? And it was in just such a mist that Mr. Hamilton had been struck down.
What if someone lurked in the shadows, watching this lighted window, perhaps knowing it was her son’s nursery? What if he had lured the boy to slip down and open the house door?
They were wealthy enough to pay a goodly ransom.
She had caught her son’s fear.
She said to Nanny, “Rouse Mr. Cornelius, if you please. Ask him to send for Inspector Bennett. It may be nothing, but on the other hand, better safe than sorry. Tell him to take Benedict with him.” The footman, she thought, would be protection enough. “And beg him to remember to lock the door behind him. Hurry!”
When Nanny had gone, she said, soothingly, “It’s all right, Jeremy, there’s nothing to worry you. Would you like