No Graves as Yet_ A Novel - Anne Perry [158]
“Yes, of course I will,” Joseph agreed. “Do you have legal representation in Cambridge?”
“Oh, yes . . . I meant as a . . . I don’t know . . . as a friend . . .”
“Yes. If you wish, I’ll go right away.”
“Yes . . . please do. I’ll stay here with my wife.”
“I’m going to Elwyn!” Mary shouted at him.
“No, you are not,” Gerald answered, unusually firmly for him. “You are staying here.”
“I . . .” she began.
“You are staying here,” he repeated, catching hold of her arm as she lunged forward, and bringing her to a stop. “You have done enough harm already.”
She swiveled around and gaped at him in stupefaction, fury and pain struggling in her face. But she did not argue.
Joseph bade goodbye to them and went out again.
Perth placed no barrier to Joseph seeing Elwyn alone in the police cell. It was late afternoon, and the shadows were lengthening. The room smelled stale, of old fears and miseries.
Elwyn sat on one of the two wooden chairs and Joseph on the other, a bare, scarred table between them.
“Is Mother all right?” Elwyn asked as soon as the door was closed and they were alone. He was very pale, and the shadows around his eyes looked like bruises.
“She is very angry,” Joseph replied truthfully. “She found it hard to accept that you could be guilty of Beecher’s death, but when she could no longer avoid it, she believed that you had just cause and were morally innocent.”
The rigidity eased out of Elwyn’s shoulders. His skin looked oddly dead, as if it would be cold to touch.
“Your father will engage a lawyer for you,” Joseph went on. “But is there anything I can do, as a friend?”
Elwyn looked down at his hands on the table. “Look after Mother as much as you can,” he answered. “She cares so much. You wouldn’t understand if you hadn’t seen Aunt Aline. She is Mother’s older sister. She always does everything right, and first. And she boasts about it all the time. Her sons win everything, and she makes us feel as if we’ll never be as clever or as important. I think she’s always been like that. She made it . . .” He stopped suddenly, realizing it was all pointless now. He drew in his breath. And went on more quietly. “You cared about Sebastian; you saw the best in him. Go on caring, and don’t let them say he was a coward.” He looked up quickly, searching Joseph’s face.
“I’ve never heard anyone say he was a coward,” Joseph replied. “No one has even suggested it. He was arrogant and at times manipulative. He enjoyed the power his charm gave him. But I think, in time, even that will be forgotten, and people will choose to remember only what was good.”
Elwyn nodded briefly and brushed his hand across his face. He looked desperately weary.
Joseph ached with pity for him. Too much had been asked of him, far too much. His brother had been idolized, and Mary, in her grief, had expected Elwyn to ignore his own pain and carry hers for her, defend her from the truth and bear the weight of her emotions. And as far as Joseph knew, she had given him nothing back, not even her gratitude or her approval. Only now, when it was far too late, did she consider him and prepare to defend him. In a way it was her passion that had driven Elwyn to seek such a terrible revenge—as it turned out, a mistaken one.
The truth was still to be found. Someone else had put the gun in the drainpipe after killing Sebastian, someone with access to the master’s lodgings. Connie, in order to protect her reputation and thus all her marriage gave her? Or Aidan Thyer, because it was he whom Sebastian had seen on the Hauxton Road when the Lanchester crashed? Perhaps this was the last chance for Joseph to ask, and the moment when Elwyn had nothing left to lose and would tell him if he knew.
“Elwyn . . . ?”
Elwyn moved slightly in acknowledgment, but he did not look up.
“Elwyn, how did you find the gun?”
“What? Oh . . . I saw it.”
“Out of the upstairs window?”
“Yes. Why? What does it matter now?”
“It matters to me. Dr. Beecher didn’t put it there, did he? Was it Mr. Thyer—or Mrs. Thyer? Did you see?”
Joseph waited. It seemed almost a battle of wills.