The William Monk Mysteries_ The First Three Novels - Anne Perry [282]
“It won’t be the same,” Hester agreed, torn between wanting to comfort her and the need to follow every shade or inflection of truth she could. “But in time we may at least forgive, and some things can be forgotten.”
“Can they?” Beatrice looked not at her but out of the window again. “Will Minta ever forget that Myles raped that wretched girl? Whatever rape is. What is rape, Hester? If you do your duty within marriage, that is lawful and right. You would be condemned for doing anything less. How different is it outside marriage that it should be regarded as such a despicable crime?”
“Is it?” Hester allowed some of her anger to come through. “It seems to me very few people were upset about Mr. Kellard’s rape of the maid, in fact they were angrier with her for speaking of it than they were with him for having done it. It all hangs upon who is involved.”
“I suppose so. But that is small comfort if it is your husband. I can see the hurt of it in her face. Not often—but sometimes in repose, when she does not think of anyone looking at her, I see pain under the composure.” She turned back, frowning, a slow troubled expression not intended for Hester. “And sometimes I think a terrible anger.”
“But Mr. Kellard is unhurt,” Hester said very gently, longing to be able to comfort her and knowing now beyond doubt that Percival’s arrest was by no means the beginning of healing. “Surely if Mrs. Kellard were thinking any violence it would be him she would direct it against? It is only natural to be angry, but in time she may forget the sharpness of it, and even think of the fact less and less often.” She nearly added that if Myles were to be tender enough with her, and generous, then it would eventually cease to matter. But thinking of Myles she could not believe it, and to speak such an ephemeral hope aloud might only add to the wound. Beatrice must see him at least as clearly as Hester, who knew him such a short while.
“Yes,” Beatrice said without conviction. “Of course, you are right. And please, take what time you need this afternoon.”
“Thank you.”
As she turned to leave, Basil came in, having knocked so perfunctorily that neither of them heard him. He walked past Hester, barely noticing her, his eyes on Beatrice.
“Good,” he said briskly. “I see you are dressed today. Naturally you are feeling much better.”
“No—” Beatrice began, but he cut her off.
“Of course you are.” His smile was businesslike. “I’m delighted, my dear. This fearful tragedy has naturally affected your health, but the worst of it is already over, and you will gain strength every day.”
“Over.” She faced him with incredulity. “Do you really believe it is over, Basil?”
“Of course it is.” He did not look at her but walked around the room slowly, looking at the dressing table, then straightening one of the pictures. “There will be the trial, of course; but you do not need to attend.”
“I wish to!”
“If it will help you to feel the matter is dealt with, I can understand it, although I think it would be better if you accepted my account.”
“It is not over, Basil! Just because they have arrested Percival …”
He swung around to face her, impatience in his eyes and mouth.
“All of it is over that needs to concern you, Beatrice. If it will help you to see justice done, then go to the trial by all means, otherwise I advise you to remain at home. Either way, the investigation is closed and you may cease to think about it. You are much better, and I am delighted to see it.” She accepted the futility of arguing and looked away, her hands fiddling with the lace handkerchief from her pocket.
“I have decided to help Cyprian to obtain a seat in Parliament,” Basil went on, satisfied her concern was over. “He has been interested in politics for some time, and it would be an excellent thing for him to do. I have connections that will make a safe