Watchers of Time - Charles Todd [115]
“No,” Hamish pointed out, “and more’s the pity!”
Rutledge ushered Mrs. Barnett out of the room. As he shut the door behind them, he said, “Forget what happened just now. You can’t change it, for one thing, and for another, you don’t really understand all the reasons behind it. Meanwhile, since you’ve heard everything that has been said, I’d like to ask you what sort of woman Mrs. Sedgwick was.”
Mrs. Barnett seemed to have trouble concentrating on his question. They had reached the stairs before she began tentatively, “I—I can’t really tell you. I hardly knew her. She was always with one or another of the family—I seldom had an opportunity to say more than half a dozen words to her alone—”
Then she faced him. “I don’t know why this matters—!”
“Because in one way or another, she mattered to Father James. And even though we have Walsh in custody, we aren’t absolved from considering all the other avenues the victim’s life opens to us.”
Doubtful still, she answered, “I didn’t know her! But she seemed nice enough. Well born. I’ve heard she came from a very fine American family, a niece or cousin to the present Lord Sedgwick’s American wife. Quite pretty, as you could see for yourself. Rather shy and quiet, with a lovely smile.”
“Did she attend church here in Osterley?”
“Here? No, not very often. There’s a charming little church on the estate in East Sherham. But the Sedgwicks would come to Osterley around once a month, and the Vicar tried to interest Mrs. Sedgwick in good works. She was too shy, and always sent excuses for not showing up.”
“Did she have many friends in Osterley?” Rutledge asked as he walked with Mrs. Barnett through the French doors into the dining room. He saw her glance quickly over her shoulder as if she would like nothing more than to escape from him to her kitchen.
“I don’t suppose there was anyone here quite suitable. People generally appeared to like her—I never heard anyone say anything unkind about her. Men found her quite attractive. That soft American accent for one thing, and she seemed—I don’t know—my husband said that she brought out a man’s protective instincts.”
Mrs. Barnett clucked her tongue at the congealed food on his plate, and added quickly, “I’ll just warm this up.”
“Did women like her?”
“I suppose they did. But women of her class are often— you either fit into their circle or you don’t.” She paused, pensive. “It’s odd, I’ve just remembered something. The Sedgwick family came here occasionally for luncheon on market day. My husband’s mother, who is gone now, always called Mrs. Sedgwick the ‘little rabbit.’ Almost as if she imagined her huddled in the midst of the dogs, trying to vanish.” She shook her head. “I never saw that, myself.”
She took up the plate and started for the kitchen. Then she turned and forced herself to ask, “You won’t upset Miss Trent again, will you? I should hate to lose her as a guest just because you’ve badgered her. There aren’t that many weekly guests this time of year. And it isn’t right that you should use your office to upset her!”
“She’ll be safe enough, I promise you,” he said, and she walked through the swinging doors to the kitchen without looking back.
Miss Trent came in reluctantly to join Rutledge. Her face was exceedingly pale, and she seemed uneasy when she realized that they had the vast room to themselves.
Rutledge said immediately, “I ought to apologize. But I have a job to do, and I try to do it well.”
It was a more effective apology than an abject capitulation, and she accepted it.
“I don’t particularly care to take a meal with you,” she said in return. “But it’s probably more comfortable here than at the police station, with everyone staring!” A quirk of sudden humor in her eyes told him she was giving him his own back.
He laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. But I promise to talk about Father James, not you.”
“I didn’t know him well—”
“You told me once before that he’d wanted something from you that you couldn’t give him. Was it to do with Mrs. Sedgwick?”
“Yes.” Like a swimmer plunging into cold water, she