A False Mirror - Charles Todd [96]
Mallory said, “I wish you would pray for us, Rector. We’re tired and dispirited. And Nan Weekes has made the worst of this business. I hadn’t counted on that. I thought she’d do more to comfort her mistress.”
“Would you like me to speak to her. She may be frightened.”
Mallory gave a short bark that wasn’t amusement. “Yes, and while I guard the door, what then?”
Putnam said with asperity, “I do not represent the police, Mr. Mallory. My duty is to God. If you ask me to help you, I would be here as his representative, and no one else’s.”
Mallory wiped a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Rector. Yes, if you would have a word with Miss Weekes, I would be grateful. It would make life within this house a little less—” He shrugged. “I’m no match for two angry women.” Then as Putnam seemed to take a step forward, Mallory said, “I haven’t told either of them about Hamilton. Or about Mrs. Granville. It was unnecessarily cruel, to worry Mrs. Hamilton when there’s nothing she can do. You’ll respect that, won’t you?”
“I understand. I’ll just ask Mr. Tavers to wait.” In a moment he was back. He passed Mallory at the door and made his way into the hall, wondering if he would encounter Mrs. Hamilton on his way belowstairs. But she was not waiting for him. He found the room where Nan Weekes had been incarcerated and saw that the key was in the door. Turning it, he stepped inside.
The woman standing with braced shoulders where she could face whoever came into the room, raised her eyebrows as she recognized the priest.
“You’ve come to tell me it’s over,” she said flatly. “Did he kill her and then himself? It’s what I’ve been expecting, but I’ve heard no gunshots.”
“Nan, nothing has changed. I’ve come because Mr. Mallory feels you need the little comfort I can offer. It’s been a trying few days.”
“Trying.” She seemed to spit the word at him. “It’s not what I’d use, not trying. They’re tormenting each other and tormenting me. I blame both of them, her for giving him false hope, and him for not seeing that he wasn’t wanted here.”
“You think that’s what has happened?” Putnam asked.
Nan Weekes said, “A decent woman doesn’t find herself pursued by a man she turned down. A decent man takes his dismissal. But my cousin has seen him watching this house of a night, from across the way. And she looks out that window toward him, in the morning. I’ve seen her when I go to bring down the ashes, and if I’ve seen her, so has Mr. Hamilton.” She turned away, as if she preferred not to face him for the next question. “No one tells me how Mr. Hamilton is faring, after that beating. I’m not to speak of it, she says. It’s too painful, she says. And who else could have given it to him, I ask you, but that Mr. Mallory? Is he dead? Is that why you’ve come, to offer comfort to the widow?”
“No. I don’t know how Mr. Hamilton is faring, Nan. I haven’t been to see him, you see. For several days he wasn’t allowed to have visitors, he was too ill.”
He had kept to the letter of his promise, Putnam thought. But not the spirit of it. With a sigh, he said, “Could you bring yourself to help Mrs. Hamilton through this ordeal? You may not approve of her actions, but you cannot judge what’s in her heart, you must leave that to God. For now, your strength and your willingness to be a witness to her ability to steer Mr. Mallory toward a peaceful end is your first duty to Mr. Hamilton. Will you keep that in mind? Will you stay here, make no trouble for either of them, and do what you can to help us while Mr. Rutledge is trying to bring Mr. Mallory to his senses?”
She said, “If you say so, Rector. But it was Mrs. Hamilton who gave him that revolver. And if anything happens to me, you must tell my cousin that I told you as much. He’s one of Mr. Bennett’s men, he’ll see things set to rights.”
“I think you must be mistaken—”
“That I’m not, Rector. I was there on the stairs, wasn’t I? It’s Mr. Hamilton’s revolver from his foreign ser vice that Mr. Mallory has, and I’ve been praying since I was shut up in here that he would turn it on himself and be done with it. It would