Farriers' Lane - Anne Perry [116]
Her eyes softened. “Papa can be such a gentle man, I cannot imagine anyone more patient or concerned than he is with my children, and he is always affectionate with me, and with Grandmama. But he can be very different when he detects cruelty or dishonesty in people. He hates evil with a passion—and he would have regarded Kingsley leaving me to be quite evil. And for all his ease and pleasantness, Kingsley knew that.”
“And it could not have been a chance robbery?” Charlotte tried to put concern in her tone, as though she did not already know possibly more of the facts than Kathleen herself.
“I doubt it.” Kathleen winced. “It was far too dreadful and pointless a thing to have done simply to rob someone. And it did—it did seem to have been someone Jewish. I think that is why Grandmama now feels so strongly about them. She was very fond of Kingsley.”
“Oh dear—you must have suffered greatly.” Charlotte meant it. “I should not trouble yourself anymore with doubts about”—she caught herself just in time from mentioning his name—“the man who was hanged. After all, if it was not he, then who could it have been?”
“I don’t know.” Kathleen shrugged very slightly. “I wondered if it was the other actor—did I say that the man they hanged was an actor? No. Well, he was. You see, it was an actress Kingsley was having an affaire with.” For all her frankness, she still avoided saying “in love.”
Charlotte swallowed. “The other actor?”
“Yes—Joshua Fielding. He is Jewish also—and he was in love with Kingsley’s actress.”
“You think he was jealous?” Charlotte asked, her throat tight, painfully aware of Caroline sitting rigid a few feet away, her hands clenched hard in her elegant gloves.
“Or that he knew Kingsley would never marry her,” Kathleen replied. “And he hated him for hurting her, albeit without really intending to. Kingsley had a terrible quarrel with him only a couple of days before he was killed.”
“With—Joshua Fielding?” Caroline interrupted for the first time. Her face was white and her voice husky.
Kathleen turned to her, as if only now fully aware of her presence.
“Yes. He came home most upset and with his clothes ruffled and dirty. I think it must have been very fierce.”
“He told you this?” Caroline tried to keep the fact at bay.
“Yes—you had to know him,” Kathleen explained, totally misunderstanding Caroline’s distress. “He did not tell the truth if it was painful, but neither would he deliberately lie. I knew something was very wrong, and of course I asked him. He said he had had a violent quarrel with Joshua Fielding. But when I asked him the subject, he said I would not wish to know, and kissed me, and went to change from his soiled clothes before retiring.” She shook her head. “Of course when his relationship with—with his mistress came out in the trial, I realized what the quarrel must have been.”
“Yes,” Charlotte said quickly, aching for Caroline, knowing the pain as if it were a tangible thing. Her stomach was clenched, and a little sick. “Yes, I see.” She scrambled for something else to say. She wished they could leave, but it would be pointedly rude, and make a return impossible. And they needed to return. She was convinced there was far more they could learn about Kingsley Blaine which might lead to his murderer, even if it was what they most dreaded to hear. To stop now would be worse than if they had never begun.
“Even so.” She tried to put a lift into her voice, but her throat was so tight it sounded more like a squeak. “Even