The Silent Cry - Anne Perry [28]
Her face twisted with revulsion, and perhaps pity also, but her horror was too great to tell. She did not wish to know such things, for many reasons. It jarred her past happiness; it frightened and revolted her. It threatened the present. The mere knowledge of it contaminated her thoughts.
“More children die under six than survive,” he went on. “Most of them have rickets. Many of the women work in sweatshops and factories, but a great number practice a little prostitution on the side—to make ends meet, to feed their children.”
He had gone too far. It was a picture she could not bear.
“No …” she said huskily. “I can only imagine that he must have been lost.”
He showed a streak of ruthlessness that would have been characteristic of Monk.
“On foot?” He raised his eyebrows. “Did he often walk around parts of London at night where he did not know the way, Mrs. Duff?”
“Of course not!” she responded too quickly.
“Where did he say he was going?” he persisted.
She was very pale, her eyes bright and defensive.
“He did not say, specifically,” she answered him. “But I believe he went out after my son. They had had words about Rhys’s behavior. I was not in the room, but I heard raised voices. Rhys had left in anger. We had both believed that he had gone to his own room upstairs.” She was sitting very upright, her shoulders high and stiff, her hands folded. “Then when my husband went up to resume the discussion, he discovered he was absent, and he was very angry. He went out also … I believe to try to find him. Before you ask me, I do not know where Rhys went or where Leighton did find him … which obviously he did. Perhaps that was how they became hurt?”
“Perhaps,” Evan agreed. “It is not unusual for a young man to frequent some questionable places, ma’am. If he is not squandering money, or paying attentions to another man’s wife, it is generally not taken very seriously. Was your husband strict in his moral views?”
She looked confused. To judge from her expression, it was a question she had never considered.
“He was not … rigid … or self-righteous, if that is what you mean.” Her eyebrows rose, her eyes widened. “I don’t think he was ever … unfair. He did not expect Rhys to be … abstinent. It was not really a … a quarrel. If I gave that impression, I did not mean to. I did not overhear their words, simply their voices. It may even have been something else altogether.” She bit her lip. “Perhaps Rhys was seeing a woman who was … married? Leighton would not have told me. He could have wished to spare me.…”
“That may be the case,” Evan conceded. “It would explain a great deal. If her husband confronted them, violence might have followed.”
Sylvestra shuddered and looked away towards the fire. “To commit murder? What kind of a woman can she be? Would it not have taken several men … to … to do such terrible things?”
“Yes … it would,” he agreed quietly. “But perhaps there were several … a father or a brother, or both.”
She put her hands up to cover her face. “If that is true, then he was wrong—very wrong—but he did not deserve a punishment like this! And my husband did not deserve any punishment at all. It was not his fault!” Unconsciously, she ran her slender fingers through her hair, dislodging a pin, letting a long, black strand of hair fall. “No wonder Rhys will not face me.” She looked up at him. “How do I answer it? How do I learn to forgive him for it … and teach him to forgive himself?”
Hester put her hand on Sylvestra’s shoulder. “First by not supposing it is true until we know,” she said firmly. “It may not be the case.” Although looking across at Evan, and remembering the scene in the bedroom during the night and today when Sylvestra had been there, she found it very easy to believe they had guessed correctly.
Sylvestra sat up slowly, her face white.
Evan rose to his feet. “Perhaps Miss Latterly will take me up to see Mr. Duff. I know he cannot speak, but he may be able to answer with a nod or a shake of his head.”
Sylvestra hesitated. She was not yet ready to face