Weighed in the balance - Anne Perry [115]
“Hardly surprising,” she said with a rueful smile. “We were crammed in like matches in a box. Who can you call to help? Has Monk found anything even remotely useful? What on earth is he doing?”
As if in answer to her question, the manservant returned to announce that Monk also had arrived, only instead of waiting in the hall or the morning room, he was following hard on the man’s heels so that the servant all but bumped into Monk when he turned.
Monk’s overcoat was wet across the shoulders, and he handed a wet hat to the manservant before he withdrew.
Hester retained her place closest to the fire, moving her skirts slightly aside so some of the warmth could reach him. But she did not bother with pleasantries.
“What have you learned in Wellborough?” she said immediately.
Monk’s face pinched with irritation. “Only substantiation of what we already assume,” he said a trifle tersely. “The more I think of it, the more likely does it seem that Gisela was the intended victim.”
Hester stared at him, consternation mixing with anger in her face.
“Can you prove it?” she challenged.
“Of course I can’t prove it! If I could, I wouldn’t have said ’I think,’ I would simply have stated that it was so.” He moved closer to the fire.
“Well, you must have a reason,” she argued. “What is it? Why do you think it was Gisela? Who did it?”
“Either Rolf, the Queen’s brother, or possibly Brigitte,” he replied. “They both had excellent reason. She was the one thing standing between Friedrich and his return home to lead the independence party. He wouldn’t have gone without her, and the Queen would not have had her back.”
“Why not?” she said immediately. “If she was so determined to fight for independence, why not have Gisela back? She might dislike her, but that’s absurd. Queens don’t murder people just out of dislike—not these days. And you’ll never get a jury to believe that. It’s preposterous.”
“An heir,” Monk replied tersely. “If he put Gisela aside … or she was dead, he could marry again, preferably to a woman from a rich and popular family who would unite the country, give him children, and strengthen the royal house rather than weaken it. I don’t know—maybe she has designs on the throne of all Germany. She has the gall—”
“Oh …” Hester fell silent, the magnitude of it suddenly striking her. She turned to Rathbone, her face furrowed with anxiety. Unconsciously, she moved a little closer to him, as if to support or protect. Then she lifted her chin and stared at Monk. “How has Zorah got caught up in it? Did she stumble on the plot?”
“Don’t be fatuous,” Monk said crossly. “She’s a patriot, all for independence. She was probably part of it.”
“Oh, I’m sure!” Now Hester was sarcastic. “That’s why when it all went wrong and Friedrich died instead, she started to draw everyone’s attention to the fact that it was murder, not natural death, as everyone had been quite happy to believe until then. She wants to commit suicide but hasn’t the nerve to pull the trigger herself. Or has she changed sides, and now she wants the whole thing exposed?” Her eyebrows rose. Her voice was growing harsher with every word, carrying her own pain. “Or better still—she’s a double agent. She’s changed sides. Now she wants to ruin the independence party by committing a murder in their name and then being hanged for it.”
Monk looked at her with intense dislike.
Rathbone turned sharply, an idea bursting in his mind.
“Perhaps that is not so lunatic as it sounds,” he said with urgency. “Perhaps it did all go wrong. Perhaps that is why Zorah is making a charge she knows she cannot prove. To force an examination of the whole affair so the truth can come out, and perhaps she is now prepared to sacrifice herself for it, if she believes it is for her country.