The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [48]
It took her most of the afternoon to mend the tear. She had to pull threads from the seams to darn it invisibly, and even so she was not entirely satisfied with it. Edward was home fairly early and she mentioned it straight away, more or less in the way of an apology.
“I’m afraid it is still noticeable,” she held it up. “But only if you catch it in the light, which of course you won’t, since it is on the back of the arm. How in goodness’ name did you come to tear it?”
He frowned, looking away from her. “I’m not sure that I can remember. It must have happened ages ago.”
“Why didn’t you mention it at the time? I could have mended it as easily then as now. In fact more easily: Lily would have done it. She was extremely clever at such things.”
“Well, it probably happened since Lily’s death, and I dare say I thought you had enough to do, being short a maid, without this. After all, I have plenty of other clothes.”
“I haven’t seen you in it since the night of Lily’s death.” She did not know why she said it.
“Well, maybe that’s the last time I wore it. That explains very completely, I should think, why I didn’t mention it. It was hardly of importance, compared with Lily, and the police in the house.”
“Yes, of course.” She folded it over her arm, meaning to tell Millie to take it upstairs. “How did you do it?”
“What?”
“The tear!”
“I really don’t remember, my dear. Whatever does it matter?”
“I thought you were at your club all evening, and that that was why you were so late?”
“I was,” his voice was becoming a little shorter. “I’m sorry if the new maid is unable to do these chores, but, my dear Caroline, there is no need to make such an issue of it. I don’t intend to discuss it the whole evening.”
She put it over her arm and opened the door.
“No, of course not. I just wondered how it happened. It is such a large tear.” And she went out into the hall to call Millie. It would be a good idea for her to steam-press it to make it lie flat.
It was Dominic who quite unintentionally shattered her peace of mind and set her in a turmoil she could not control. He came to her a couple of days later holding out a waistcoat with his forefinger poked through a tear on the pocket.
“How did you do that?” she took it from him and examined it.
“Shoved my hand in it too far.” He smiled. “Sheer stupidity. Can you mend it? I saw the marvellous job you did on Papa-in-law’s coat.”
She was pleased he should say so, because she was still not totally satisfied with it herself.
“Thank you. Yes, I think so. I’ll try this evening.”
“If you can do Papa’s, I’m sure you can do that.”
A thought occurred to her as he turned away.
“When did you see it?”
“What?” he looked back.
“When did you see the tear in Edward’s coat?”
He frowned very slightly.
“The night Lily was killed.”
“How observant of you. I wouldn’t have thought in all the excitement you’d have seen it. Or did you see it at the club? That was where he did it.”
He shook his head fractionally.
“I think you must have misunderstood. I was at the club, but Papa left very early, and his coat certainly wasn’t torn then. I remember it clearly: Belton, the footman, gave him his hat and his cane. He would have noticed, couldn’t have failed to.”
“You must have the wrong night!”
“No, because I had dinner with Reggie Hafft. He dropped me off in Cater Street and I walked the last half mile or so. I saw Papa coming from the opposite end of Cater Street and called out to him, but he didn’t hear me. He got home just a little while before I did.”
“Oh.” It was a stupid remark, but she was too stunned to think clearly. Edward had lied to her, over something completely trivial—but on the night Lily had been murdered. Why? Why had he not told her the truth? Was it something he was ashamed of, or afraid of?
What on earth was she thinking? This was preposterous! He must have been to call on some friend, and forgotten. That was it. It would be explained quite easily, and then she would be ashamed of the thoughts