We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [103]
Onslow drew in his breath to interrupt her also, but something in her face and bearing stopped him. He made an attempt at patience, but it was brief.
Lizzie plunged on. “Unfortunately Sarah Price was not the only woman to be assaulted. There was an earlier rape, extremely unpleasant, but very much less violent—”
This time he did interrupt. “Nothing was reported, Miss—”
“Mrs. Blaine,” she said. “I know it was not reported.” Her voice dipped.
Joseph ached to be able to say it for her, explain, force Onslow to understand, but he knew he must not. It would rob Lizzie of the only dignity or control she had in the matter. He stood rigidly, his hands by his sides, clenched so his nails dug into his palms. The silence in the tent was oppressive, the air stale.
“It is very…difficult to report such a thing.” Lizzie’s voice sank despite her will to keep it strong.
Onslow’s face darkened with anger. “Mrs. Blaine, rape is a very serious crime! Not to report it is completely irresponsible. I am very sorry that such a thing should have happened, and if you tell me who the woman is, we shall add that to the charge.” He jerked his hands, as if freeing himself from some restraint. “Although of course I cannot unless the victim herself tells me. Please point out to her that it is her duty, and perhaps if she had had the courage to come forward at the time, we might have caught the man then, and Sarah Price would still be alive.”
It cost Joseph such an effort of will to keep silent that he could feel the blood throbbing in his temples. He wanted to beat Onslow until he lay senseless.
Lizzie struggled to force the words through her lips. “I was the woman, sir. I have no idea who it was who raped me. Had I known, I would have reported it…”
Onslow looked taken aback, but it did not alter the anger in him. His face was red, his eyes bright and hard. “Then your accusation now is pointless, and too late, Mrs. Blaine.” He stood up and walked around the table toward her, looking her up and down as though to see whether she was injured.
Joseph was trembling, the sweat hot and then cold on his skin.
“It has every point!” Lizzie’s voice was choked with tears. “It happened more than a month ago, before Colonel Schenckendorff was anywhere near here. It could not possibly have been him.”
It took a moment for the full import to strike Onslow. He froze. “You mean you have allowed us to accuse and imprison an innocent man while you said nothing?” he shouted at her.
“I…I hoped he would be proved innocent in some other way,” she whispered. “I—”
“You hoped?” he demanded incredulously, his eyebrows arched high. “You hoped?” he repeated. “If you had spoken at the time we would have investigated then, when the trail was fresh. At the very least we would have known there was a rapist loose in the clearing station, and women would have taken the proper precautions for safety. Sarah Price would still be alive, and we would not have wasted weeks questioning and accusing and finally locking up the wrong man! Have you any concept of what you have—”
“Yes!” she cried out, tears running down her face. “Yes, of course I know. Why do you think I came to you now? But I don’t know who it was—”
“You should have come—”
Joseph lunged forward and hit Onslow, hard, throwing all his weight behind the blow. The major staggered backward, crashing into the canvas, losing his balance and falling sideways onto the floor.
“Joseph! No!” Lizzie shouted, throwing herself at him and clinging to him so he could not strike again, and they both lurched to a standstill.
Onslow blinked and lay still for several seconds before raising himself onto an elbow. He drew in his breath and shook his head. Then very slowly he clambered to his feet, still half leaning against the wall.
Joseph was so angry that if Onslow had turned to Lizzie and spoken he would have hit him again, even though the realization was beginning to sink in that he had struck a superior officer and could find himself court-martialed—possibly even dishonorably discharged.