A Fearsome Doubt - Charles Todd [79]
There was a moment of stunned silence, broken only by the sharp intake of breath from Bella Masters. Her face was pale with embarrassment. Rutledge could feel himself reddening at the insult.
Hamish said starkly, “You canna’ quarrel with him.”
But before Rutledge could speak, Melinda Crawford was there ahead of him.
“Raleigh,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument, “illness is not an excuse for bad manners. You will apologize to all of us for your rudeness!”
He glared at her. She returned the stare with the authority of a woman who has spent a lifetime learning her own worth.
Rutledge thought, She faced down the Mutineers in India. Masters has forgotten that.
After a moment Raleigh said, “Why should I apologize, I ask you? He comes to dine in the guise of a guest, but who knows what actually brings him here? Policemen don’t have social lives. Or if they do, I’ve never heard of it. And behind my back he asks questions of a derogatory nature about a man whose boots he is not fit to lick! Matthew Sunderland was my friend and my mentor—”
Rutledge turned to look at Bella Masters. Guilt was written clearly in her appalled expression.
He knew instantly that Elizabeth had spoken to her at his request—and she had passed the query on to her husband.
He replied, “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. I’ve never spoken derogatorily about Matthew Sunderland. I have expressed an interest in one of his cases. One in which I myself was involved.”
“Odd, don’t you think?” Masters inquired of the table at large. “Generally when a policeman has a question concerning a trial, he goes to his superiors. This means, I fear, that Mr. Rutledge is afraid he had not prepared his case well enough and wants the reassurance that he is right in his assumption of guilt!”
It was too damned close to the truth, and for an instant Rutledge found himself thinking that Chief Superintendent Bowles had been in touch with Raleigh Masters. But that was not very likely.
Hamish was roaring in his ears, telling him that Masters had seen through him and he had nowhere to turn.
But Rutledge responded with courtesy, “As you were not a party to the trial, sir, I’m afraid I must rely on the opinion of others.”
Before his host could frame a retort, Mrs. Crawford was on her feet. “Raleigh! You are not only rude, you are very drunk.” She turned to the maid standing stricken behind Mrs. Masters’s chair. “Will you summon my driver, please? I am leaving. Bella, I must tell you that I will not dine with you again until your husband has apologized to me and everyone present.”
Bella, her voice trembling, said, “Mrs. Crawford—Melinda—”
But her husband’s voice cut across hers. He was standing now also. Something in Mrs. Crawford’s face had finally penetrated the alcoholic haze and touched him.
Or else he had fired all the salvos he’d intended.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I beg forgiveness for my behavior. If you will excuse me, I shall retire. Mr. Rutledge, you have been a gracious and pleasant guest in my home. I don’t know what possessed me to attack you, but you must put it down to my intemperance.”
Raleigh bowed, retrieved his cane, and walked steadily from the room, closing the door softly behind him. Rutledge had the feeling that he was very nearly sober. . . .
Bella was almost in tears. “I don’t know what to say—” she began.
Melinda Crawford replied briskly, “It’s better if you say nothing. There is never any defense for rudeness.” She signaled to the maid. “I think we’re ready for our tea, if you please. And I believe the gentlemen will join us in the sitting room tonight.”
She nodded to Elizabeth and Brereton, then said to Rutledge, “You behaved with generosity. My father would have commended you for keeping your temper. But I will tell you that the man who insulted you is not the man I have known for some years. Now, we shall put this behind us and have our tea!”
With a sweep of her skirts, she ushered the still-trembling Bella toward her own sitting room, with Elizabeth at her heels. Brereton said, following them with