A False Mirror - Charles Todd [97]
Putnam stood there, rooted to the spot for an instant longer. Finally he said, “Nan, you’re no better than they are, when you say such things.”
“That’s as may be. Will you give Mrs. Granville a message from me, if you please? I’ve got her best sheets at my house, to iron them properly. They’d have been back by now if I weren’t shut away here. If she needs them, she can go and fetch them. I’ll understand.”
The rector replied slowly. “I expect to see Dr. Granville shortly. I’ll make a point of passing this information on.”
She laughed, without humor. “He wouldn’t know the best sheets from the everyday ones. No, it’s Mrs. Granville you must tell. I wouldn’t want her to think I’d mislaid them.”
He asked her, tentatively, if she would like to pray with him before he left, and she bowed her head stiffly while he did, drawing on his training to sustain him. But he saw that his hands were shaking as he locked her door again. And he wondered if Nan had noticed it as well.
Rutledge was driving back into Hampton Regis from Miss Trining’s house when he saw George Reston and two other men walk into a row of offices just up from the Mole. They appeared to be in earnest conversation, and the younger of the three carried a sheaf of papers in his hand.
He passed them without showing any interest in them. But when they had gone inside, he turned the next corner and drew up in front of Reston’s home.
The maid informed him that Mrs. Reston would receive him, and he followed her down the passage to a small room that was warm from the fire on the hearth and bright with lamplight.
“I was glad to see that Mr. Reston is feeling better,” he said. “He appeared to be with business associates just now, near the Mole.”
“He didn’t want to keep to that appointment, but he had no choice.” She regarded him coolly. “It had been arranged several days ago and one of the men has to return to Winchester tonight. Why have you come back, Mr. Rutledge?”
“First, I should like to ask you if your maiden name was Cole.”
“It was not. My father was Edward Farrington, we lived in London and Sussex. I don’t see that that has anything to do with your business here in Hampton Regis.”
He tried to place the name. Something to do with law or finance, he thought. Certainly a firm connected with some of the best families in the country. Mrs. Reston had indeed come down in the world, and it was there in her face as she watched him search his memory. But he was careful not to let her see his conclusion.
“And your second reason?”
“Because I think you must know more about Matthew Hamilton than your husband is aware of, Mrs. Reston. And I didn’t feel I should say as much in his presence.”
“Our parents traveled in the same circles, we met a time or two, but it was not an event I remember with great fondness, if that’s what you are asking me. He was just one of many people invited to the same house parties and weekends in the country. I enjoyed them. One did then, before the war. It was a very pleasant way of life. I miss that, I think a good many people must. It was a golden time. By the time I married George, Matthew Hamilton was abroad. I don’t think he recognized me when we were introduced here in Hampton Regis at Miss Trining’s dinner party. I didn’t press the memory.”
“But your husband, if I’m not mistaken, is very certain you do remember Matthew Hamilton, and with some warmth.”
“Call it a matter of revenge, Inspector. It didn’t drive my husband to attack Mr. Hamilton when he was out walking Monday last. And it hasn’t driven him to do anything drastic now.”
“You can’t be sure of that. Revenge is sometimes bloody and swift.”
“My husband bought me, Mr. Rutledge. Like goods in a shop. Or so he feels. I’ve seen it in his eyes when he looks at me. He wanted to improve his position socially, and my father needed money rather badly. It was an arranged marriage. Two years later, my uncle died and my father had all the money he could ever wish for. And I had George Reston for my husband. There was no respite for me.