The Sins of the Wolf - Anne Perry [174]
And little as he admired it, in that instant he knew exactly what she felt, all the loneliness, the confusion, the feelings of unworthiness, the longing to strike back and hurt just as much. Because he knew now what else had happened in the lifeboat so long ago. He had tried so hard, and yet someone else had been the hero. Someone else had retrieved his mistake and saved the man on the doomed ship. In his mind’s eye he could see the boy, a year or two older, standing balanced on the slippery deck, hurling the rope at risk of being pitched overboard, drenched to the skin, lashing it fast, heaving the man out of that awful chasm.
No one had said anything to him, no one had blamed him, and yet his ears rang with the other boy’s praises, not just his skill, but his courage. That was what hurt, his quickness of thought, his self-denial and his courage, the qualities Monk had wanted above all.
It was the same with Eilish. Above all she had wanted to be loved and trusted.
They were each of them regarding Monk now; the judgment awaited.
Quinlan had decided, but then he had from the beginning. “If you believe all that, you’re a fool,” he said bitterly. “We’d do better to call the police before Monk does. Or do you plan to pay him off as well? It’s too late to avoid scandal, if that has occurred to anyone?” He looked around with wide eyes. “One of us did it. No one can escape that.”
“Scandal,” Deirdra said thoughtfully, her face intent. “Is it not possible that Baird is telling the truth, and Mother-in-law paid off this Arkwright to avoid scandal?”
There was a long silence. Oonagh turned to Baird.
“Why didn’t you say that?” she asked him.
“Because I don’t believe it is true,” he said, answering her very directly, his dark eyes staring into hers. “Mary was not the sort of person to do that.”
“Of course she was,” Alastair said, then glanced at Oonagh with abject apology, having just realized what he had said.
“I think we had best leave this for the present,” Oonagh said decisively. “We do not know the truth….”
Hester spoke for the first time.
“Mrs. Farraline mentioned Mr. McIvor to me several times on the train, always with affection,” she said very quietly. “I cannot imagine she was paying blackmail simply to keep the family name out of scandal. If she were doing that, she would have loathed him, perhaps even required that he go away….”
“Thank you for your comments, Miss Latterly,” Alastair said dryly. “But I really do not think you are sufficiently informed to—”
Deirdra interrupted him. “Yes she is.” But before she could say anything further Alastair commanded she be silent, and he turned to Monk.
“Thank you for your work, Mr. Monk. Do you have documented proof of what you have told us?”
“No.”
“Then I think, in that event, you will keep silent about it until we have made a decision as to what is wisest to do. Tomorrow is Sunday. After kirk you will take luncheon with us, and we shall then discuss this matter to its conclusion. Good day to you, Mr. Monk, Miss Latterly.”
There was nothing to do but accept their dismissal. Monk and Hester walked together into the hall, past the great picture of Hamish, and out into the steadily falling rain.
12
MONK AND HESTER were easily agreed that they also would go to church on Sunday morning. Monk had no intention of worshiping. It was not a subject to which he had given any thought, but it was another opportunity to observe the Farralines. He did not ask Hester her reasons. Presumably they were similar.
They had walked up from the Grassmarket, allowing plenty of time, having previously ascertained the time of the service, and arrived as the congregation was assembling.
They filed in behind a stout matron, leaning on the arm of a grim-faced man carrying his hat in his hand. This couple nodded to acquaintances, and received several acknowledgments in return. Everyone looked extremely sober.
Hester glanced around. It was difficult to recognize the Farraline women because they all wore hats, naturally.