No Graves as Yet_ A Novel - Anne Perry [99]
“There is nothing,” she said, her tone very slightly softening the abruptness of the words. “Unless you can stop them saying such things about my son. Can you do that, Reverend? You knew him as I did!”
“I didn’t know him as you did,” he reminded her. “For example, I did not know that he was engaged to be married. He never mentioned it.”
She looked up at him defiantly. “That is a personal matter. It had been arranged for some time, but obviously he would have completed all his studies first. What I meant was that you, of all people, knew his quality! You know he had a clarity of mind, of heart, that he was honest in a way most people do not even understand.” The anger and the hurt burned through her words. “You knew that he was nobler than ordinary men, his dreams were higher and filled with a beauty they will never see.” She looked him up and down as if seeing him clearly for the first time and finding it incomprehensible. “Doesn’t it hurt you unbearably that they are questioning his very decency now?” Her contempt was raw and absolute.
At that moment Elwyn came out of the sitting room door and walked toward them. Mary Allard did not turn.
“When you love someone, surely you must also find the courage within yourself to see them with honesty, the light and the darkness as well?” Joseph said to her. He saw her anger gathering to explode. “He was good, Mrs. Allard, and he had amazing promise, but he was not perfect. He had much growth of spirit yet to accomplish, and by refusing to see the shadows in him we reinforced them instead of helping him to overcome them. I am guilty as well, and I wish it were not too late to mend it.”
Mary’s face held no forgiveness. “Reverend Reavley—”
Elwyn took her by the arm, his eyes meeting Joseph’s. He knew his mother was wrong, but her weakness was something he did not know how to face, let alone to overcome. His eyes pleaded with Joseph not to be forced to.
“Let go of me, Elwyn!” Mary said sharply, leaning away from him.
“Mother, we can’t help what people are saying! Why don’t you come inside? It’s hot out here, especially in black.”
She whirled on him. “Are you suggesting I shouldn’t wear black for your brother? Do you imagine a little discomfort matters a jot to me?”
Elwyn looked as if he had been slapped, but also as if he was used to it. He did not let go of her. “I’d like you to come inside where it is cooler.”
She snatched her arm away. She was hurting too deeply to be kind, absorbed in her own pain and careless of his.
Joseph was suddenly angry with her. Her grief was unbearable, but it was also selfish. He turned to Elwyn. “Some pain is intolerable,” he said gently. “But it is generous of you to be more concerned for your mother than for yourself, and I admire you for it.”
Elwyn flushed deeply. “I loved Sebastian,” he said huskily. “We weren’t much alike—he was cleverer than I’ll ever be—but he always made me feel he respected what I could do, sports and painting. I think a lot of people cared for him.”
“I know they did,” Joseph agreed. “And I know he admired you, but more than that, he loved you also.”
Elwyn turned away, embarrassed by his emotion.
Joseph looked steadily at Mary until a deep stain of color worked up her cheeks. With a look of fury at him for having seen her weakness, she went after her younger son and caught up with him as he reached the steps to the garden door.
Joseph followed her inside, but she barely hesitated in the sitting room. Offering the briefest apology to those there, she hurried after Elwyn through the other door into the hall.
Joseph looked at Thyer, Connie, and Harry Beecher standing uncomfortably in the silence. “I can’t think of anything helpful to say,” Joseph confessed.
Thyer was by himself, nearest the garden doors, Connie and Beecher at the other side of the room, closer to each other, glasses of lemonade in their hands.
“No one can,” Connie said. “Please don’t blame yourself.”
Thyer smiled slightly. “Particularly her husband, poor devil, and