Funeral in Blue - Anne Perry [138]
The butler opened the door looking startled and considerably put out. He was obviously about to give a very abrupt answer until he recognized Hester, then his expression turned to alarm. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Monk?” he said nervously.
“There has not been any accident, thank you,” she replied. “But we do have a concern which unfortunately cannot wait until morning. Would you be good enough to tell Mr. Latterly that we are here, and Mrs. Latterly also. We need to speak with them as urgently as possible.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced at Monk. “Sir. If you will come this way, I shall rake the fire in the withdrawing room and get it going again—”
“I can do that,” Monk cut across him. “Thank you. If you would be good enough to fetch Mrs. Latterly.”
The butler looked startled, but he did not argue.
In the withdrawing room, Monk lit the gas and turned it up until the room was as light as possible, then moved over and worked at the fire until it started to burn again. It was not difficult; the embers were still hot and it only required the riddling away of the clogging ash and a little new coal. He was finished before the door opened and Charles came in.
“What is it?” he asked, turning from Hester to Monk, and back again. He looked tired and drawn, but not as if he had been asleep. He greeted them only perfunctorily. “What’s happened?” No one mentioned the trial; it was unnecessary to say that it was concerning Kristian, and Elissa’s death, that they had come. The subject crowded everything else from their thoughts.
Hester answered him, to save Monk the difficulty of trying to word it so as to spare his feelings. There was no time for that. She hated having to tell Charles, to see his fear and embarrassment, but there was no evasion possible.
“Max Niemann saw Imogen leaving the gambling house on the night Elissa was killed.” Odd how she spoke of her, even thought of her, by her Christian name, as if she had known her. “Niemann saw Allardyce there, too, meaning that he was not miles away, as he swore. If Imogen also saw him, it could help to raise reasonable doubt enough to acquit Kristian.”
Charles was very pale, almost jaundiced-looking in the yellow glare of the gas. “I see,” he said slowly. “And you want her to testify.”
“Yes!” Thank heaven at least he understood. “I am afraid it is necessary.”
Silence almost clogged the air. There was no sound at all but the faint whickering of the flames in the fireplace as they burned up and caught the new coal Monk had placed in there.
“I’m sorry,” Hester said gently.
The tiniest of smiles touched Charles’s mouth.
The door opened and Imogen came in. She had dressed, but not bothered to pin up her hair. It hung loose in a cloud of dark waves about her head. Just for an instant, before she came into the direct light of the lamp, she could have been one of Allardyce’s paintings of Elissa come to life.
“What is it?” she asked, looking straight at Hester. “What’s happened?”
It was Charles who answered. It was clear he was torn between swift honesty and trying to soften the blow for her to shield her from embarrassment. He should have known it was impossible. Perhaps he did, but still could not break the habit of a lifetime. “Allardyce was seen near his studio on the night Mrs. Beck was killed,” he began. “That means he could be guilty after all. The person who saw him also saw you . . .” He flushed as her body stiffened. “And if you saw him, then that would be additional proof that he was there.”
“Why should anyone doubt it?” she said quickly. “If this other person says he saw him, isn’t that enough?”
Charles looked at Monk questioningly.
“He is a friend of Kristian Beck’s,” Monk answered. “They may believe he is saying it simply to defend him. He needs corroboration.”
Imogen looked at Charles, her eyes wide. Hester tried to read her expression. It was more than fear alone. Was it shame, even some kind of apology for having to admit publicly where she was and that she had gone without him? It would humiliate him publicly.