• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“Yes. I can’t risk the scandal of a police investigation—even if it’s for something I didn’t do.”

Isabel told him that she could understand that. Edinburgh was a small place when it came to reputations; what was said at dinner parties would be believed by some, and repeated, even if it was untrue—and demonstrably so.

She rose to her feet. He stood up, his natural politeness fully restored. “Please let me get you some tea,” he said.

She thanked him, but explained that she had to get on her way.

He demurred. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Please forgive my rudeness.”

“Of course. I can understand how you felt.”

She began to walk to the door, and as she did so a woman appeared from the landing outside the drawing room. She was a tall woman and Isabel noticed immediately that she had very similar eyes to George’s—sister, she thought.

George introduced them. “My wife, Angela,” he said.

Angela shook hands with Isabel. “I think I know who you are,” she said, and mentioned a mutual acquaintance.

“When we lived in India, we lived outside a village,” George Finesk said. “Now we come home and we find ourselves living in a village.”

“Yes,” said Isabel, smiling. “It sometimes feels like that, doesn’t it?” She felt the other woman’s eyes upon her. There was something disconcerting about her gaze. It was not hostile, or even reserved; rather it was a look that indicated that there was something that she wanted to say.

“I’ll show Isabel out,” Angela offered. She spoke in a slightly peremptory way, to which George meekly acceded. Isabel thought, She makes the decisions.

They left the room and made their way downstairs, Angela leading the way.

“Are you married?” Angela asked in the downstairs hall.

It was an unexpected question, posed out of the blue, almost rude in its suddenness. “Engaged, as it happens,” Isabel replied.

Angela nodded. “Then you’ll understand what I mean when I say that there are certain faults that one just has to live with. You feel that, I think, with a fiancé as much as with a husband. You see your way past them.”

Isabel nodded. “I suppose that you find out more about them as you go along.”

“You do.” They were at the front door now, and Angela fumbled with the lock. “I must get this thing attended to. It’s always catching.” She gave the door a tug and it opened.

Outside, in the garden, Isabel was struck by the musky scent of a flowering shrub. The fragrance lay heavy on the air, like a coating. They began to walk down the path; Solomon’s Seal, Isabel said to herself, looking down at the delicate rows of suspended white flowers.

The older woman took Isabel by the arm, pressing hard. Isabel looked down at the other woman’s hand: there was an aquamarine set in a wide ring; a bracelet too—gold. There were sunspots on her hand—the Indian sun, presumably.

“I know why you came,” Angela said. “I know about your letter.”

Isabel started to explain. “Well, that’s not what it seems—”

Angela cut her off. “Please. Please let me tell you something. George didn’t really intend to do what he did. That’s just not his style—it really isn’t.”

She was puzzled. “To do what he—”

Angela interrupted again. “He should never have caused that damage—or done any of the other things he did. It’s just that he was so livid over what that woman did. He is a fair-minded man, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that woman sitting there with impunity. I think something snapped inside him. Of course he knows that violence and threats are no solution, but … well, he’s human—as are we all.”

She looked at Isabel. There was pleading in her eyes.

“Please don’t do anything that will cause difficulties for George,” she whispered. “I’m asking you woman to woman. Please don’t. He won’t do anything like this again—I promise you that.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

IN HER DREAM, her aunt from Mobile had told Isabel to finish what she began. Isabel realised that this was wise advice, of course, of the sort that we started to give to children the moment they understood what the words finish and begin meant. She realised, too, that the advice given