Dark Assassin - Anne Perry [54]
“Of course,” Rose agreed, her face reflecting momentary distaste. “I shall appreciate my carriage more next time, I suppose.” Then she realized that Hester almost certainly did not have a carriage. “I’m sorry!” she said, a tide of color washing up her cheeks.
Hester laughed. “I had a carriage before I went to the Crimea,” she told her. “Before the war my family had very comfortable means.”
“You lost it in the war?” They were walking briskly down the street towards the omnibus stop.
“My father did,” Hester replied as they passed two women going in the opposite direction. “He was cheated out of it by a man who made a fortune doing that. He was an ex-army officer invalided out. A hero, so people trusted him.”
There was a quick sympathy in Rose’s face, but she did not interrupt.
“My father took his own life.” Hester found it difficult to say, even so many years after. “But there was no question about it. He felt it was the only honorable way to act…in the circumstances. My mother died shortly afterwards.”
“Oh!” Rose stopped still in the street, ignoring the spray of icy water from a passing carriage. “How unbearable for you!”
“One has to bear it,” Hester replied, taking Rose’s arm and moving her away from the edge of the curb. “Doing something helps a great deal. The days pass, and it gets better. Do you think that was what Mary Havilland was doing?”
They started to walk again.
“No—no, I don’t think so,” Rose said gravely. “She was…too excited. She grieved terribly for her father, of course, but she really believed she was going to prove his innocence—I mean of…Oh!” It was a wail of horror at herself. She was aghast at her own clumsiness in piling one pain on top of another.
Hester was forced to smile. There was a ridiculous humor to it, in spite of the tragedy. “I never thought my father acted dishonorably,” she said truthfully. “In his mind he was paying the price for his error.”
“What happened to the soldier who…?”
“He was murdered, very violently, by someone else he had…robbed,” Hester answered, then changed the subject. “What was Mary like? Please tell me the truth, not what kindness dictates because she is dead.”
Rose thought for a long time, in fact until they reached the omnibus stop and stood side by side waiting.
“I liked her,” she began. “Which means that my opinion is probably not accurate. She was brave in her opinions, and in fighting for what she cared about. But she was afraid of certain kinds of failure.”
“I think we all are,” Hester agreed. “There are things we can afford to lose, and things we know we can’t and still stay whole at heart.”
Rose looked at her, then lowered her glance. “I think Mary was afraid of being alone, but also of marrying someone she did not love. And she did not love Toby. I am not certain if in the end she even liked him. She preferred the safety of being a good daughter. She did that superbly.”
“And she thought there was no risk in it,” Hester added.
“Exactly.” Rose met her eyes again. “But she never thought of her own danger in defending her father. I think her courage may have cost her her life.”
“You think Toby meant her to go over the bridge?”
“I know the Argyll brothers only socially. We’ve met maybe a dozen times in the last few months, but anyone could see they were very close. Toby was clever and ambitious. Alan was proud of him.”
“But Alan was a success already?”
“Very much. He is quite wealthy. And well regarded, so my husband says.” She frowned. “Actually, his company’s record of safety is excellent, better than that of many other companies. If Mary found anything untoward, then she must have been either very lucky or extraordinarily clever.”
The omnibus arrived and they climbed onboard awkwardly, struggling to hold wet skirts out of the way. They did not continue talking until