An Anne Perry Christmas_ Two Holiday Novels - Anne Perry [59]
Had he been afraid of Ashton Gower and the damage he could cause? Had Gower threatened Antonia, or even Joshua? Would Judah have considered paying him in some way, to protect them?
That was nothing like the man Henry had known. But do people change when those they love are threatened?
He stared up and down the swollen stream. In the daylight he could see the fall clearly, the water splashing white over the jagged rocks. They were certainly sharp enough to have caused the injuries Leighton had described. Everything fitted with the facts. Ice on the stones, one false step, poor balance, even simple tiredness, and a fall could cause a blow that would render one senseless. Facedown and one could drown in minutes—the water did not need to be deep. The current could carry a body down to the fall and cause the lacerations Leighton spoke of.
But knowing Gower, why on earth would Judah meet him here, alone at night? The answer was simple. He would not. And to suppose chance, made no sense either. Gower would not wait here on a bitter, winter night in case Judah came! That was absurd.
Ashton Gower might well have wished him dead, and rejoiced when he was, but there was nothing whatever to suggest that he had killed him, except the madness of the man and his hunger for revenge, and they proved nothing at all.
Reluctantly he turned and made his way back, shivering in spite of his coat, scarf, hat, and thick, furlined gloves. Everything in him wanted to believe Gower was responsible. It was factually absurd, and emotionally the only thing that made sense.
With the daylight the snow was thawing and by the time he reached the house his feet were thoroughly soaked, as were the bottoms of his trousers. He went up the back stairs to his room and changed before coming down again to the dining room.
Mrs. Hardcastle brought him a late breakfast, and he was joined by Benjamin, curious to know where he had been.
“To the stepping-stones,” Henry replied when asked. “Tea?”
Benjamin sat down. He looked tired, his eyes hollowed round with shadows. He accepted the offer. Henry poured for them. “Why?”
“Just to see if what Leighton told us makes sense. It does, Ben. I can't imagine Judah going there to meet Gower at night, and it's ridiculous to think Gower waited there for him by chance.”
Benjamin looked at him steadily. “You think it was simply an accident?”
Henry did not know how to answer. His intelligence and his instinct fought against each other. He was a man used to logical thought, brought up in the discipline and the beauty of reason. And yet his knowledge of Judah Dreghorn made the deductions sit ill with him. He answered the only way honesty could dictate. “There must be something we don't know, perhaps several things.”
Benjamin gave a rueful smile. “Same old Henry, careful thinker.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “We need that now more than ever. What do we tell Antonia?”
Henry did not have to weigh his answer. There was only one they could afford, and he had a firmer trust of Antonia's courage and judgment than Benjamin had, sharp memories of her frankness, her curiosity, and the courage with which she met the answers, so many of which she had had to face alone. It hurt him deeply that her happiness had been so short. “The truth,” he replied.
The opportunity did not come until the evening. Either one of them had been otherwise occupied, or Joshua had been with them, but after dinner they were all gathered around the fire, and Joshua had gone to bed. It was Benjamin who began, looking at Antonia with grave apology.
“I'm sorry to raise it again, but I believe we need to understand better what happened the night Judah died.”
“I don't know anything I haven't told you,” she answered, her hands knotted in her lap, unornamented but for her gold wedding ring.
He was gentle. “What did you talk about on the way home from the recital?