"What sort of life does he lead, Mother? I'd hate to be caged up. And if he complains, it's Maidstone instead. The poor devil could live to be eighty in that place. Is that what you want for him?"
"Do you think prison would have been better? Do you want that on the family escutcheon?" Timothy asked from the window.
Jonathan wheeled on his brother. "Peregrine is an albatross about our necks, alive or dead."
"Jonathan." His mother spoke his name in such a cold tone that both of her sons stared at her. "We'll hear no more about Peregrine, if you please. The matter is closed."
"Yes, well, he's still Father's heir when you die, Mother. We haven't got round that problem yet, have we?"
"Peregrine could well outlive us all," she told him. "As you said. Which reminds me. Someone needs to bethink themselves of a guardian for him, if anything happens to me."
Jonathan said only, "Let Timothy see to that. I'm not setting foot in that place."
"Don't ask me to go. That's why we have a family solicitor," Timothy retorted.
I sat there in embarrassed silence, trying to pretend I wasn't hearing such a private family issue being discussed.
Robert came in to speak to Mrs. Graham. He stood there, leaning against the doorframe, as if he belonged in this room and was not happy at being excluded. Remembering his gruffness when he met my train, it occurred to me that he hadn't wanted me to come to Owlhurst. He was close to this family-it was possible that he'd guessed what Arthur would say on his deathbed, and knew it would open old wounds. Even I could see that Robert felt free to express his views. His had been the deciding voice in allowing Peregrine to come home to die.
Watching him there as he and Mrs. Graham discussed a problem with a tenant's cow, I was reminded of what Peregrine had said about who might have killed his father-his stepmother or her cousin. It was hard to give credence to his words-they hadn't married, after all, and I couldn't think of another reason for killing a husband. Yet they were close, as cousins sometimes are. Clearly the two of them were of the same mind in this problem with the cow, and Robert had come out of duty rather than from a need for guidance.
When they had settled on a course of action regarding how to treat the animal, he nodded to me and left.
Mrs. Graham's gaze followed him to the door, a frown between her eyes.
Then she turned back to me and said, "You've heard us speak of things that are private, my dear-in regard to Peregrine. I must apologize. But his circumstances make it necessary for us to think and act for him, painful as it may be."
Was she testing me again, to see if I'd noticed-or failed to notice-something in regard to her stepson?
It dawned on me that perhaps the talk about Peregrine's mental deficiency during his childhood might have been the family's way of covering up something worse. Better to tell friends and neighbors that the boy was slow than that the boy was dangerous. It explained too why I'd not found him deficient-if anything, articulate and sensible.
I smiled with understanding. "It must be very difficult. I don't envy you."
Jonathan said, "I don't wish to appear to cut short your visit, Miss Crawford, but I'll be traveling to Tonbridge tomorrow. I'll be happy to take you to the train, if that's your wish."
Mrs. Graham said in protest, "Jonathan, that's not necessary. Robert will drive her when she's ready."
But I knew what was expected of the guest who had stayed overlong.
"It would be lovely if I could go with you, Lieutenant Graham. Much as I've enjoyed my visit, I must have everything ready to return to duty when my orders come."
There was protest, but halfhearted. I smiled, told Jonathan I'd have my luggage closed before I came down to breakfast, and the subject was dropped.
I wasn't ready to leave. But I didn't know how to prevent it.
Beware what you wish for.
Dr. Philips was at the door just before dawn, pounding insistently until Susan answered the summons, then awakened me.
Ted Booker had stripped away his bandages in the night and succeeded, finally, in killing himself.
I was shocked.
"There's to be an inquest," Dr. Philips was saying urgently. "You must tell them that he was not in his right mind. That he didn't know what he was doing."
"He promised," I said. "He told me he understood what his wife was suffering. I believed him." I could feel hot tears stinging my eyes. "Poor man. Poor, poor man."
"You'll be the only one to weep over him," Dr. Philips said. "His mother-in-law is telling the world that he's gone to a better place...." He stopped. "I'm sorry, Miss Crawford, I am so sorry to bring you this news. But I have nowhere to turn. I don't quite know how to take it in."
He was upset. I understood losing a patient. "I'll fetch my coat and come with you."
Dr. Philips shook his head. "There's nothing you can do, not now. I've seen to the-er-necessary steps that follow on the heels of sudden death. I am refusing to sign the death certificate until another doctor has seen the body. Dr. Blessing is coming from Tonbridge."
"Dr. Philips. Come with me."
He seemed almost grateful to follow me to the kitchen, where Susan was just stoking the fires. I gave him a cup of tea and with Susan's permission, eggs and bacon and toast as well.
He kept murmuring, "This is most kind-most kind."
When Susan had taken the tea tray up to Mrs. Graham, I said quietly, "Something more than Ted Booker's death has upset you. What's wrong?"
"Someone came into the surgery in the middle of the night. I was asleep, I'd had a long day. Then I woke to the sound of something heavy falling, and when I went down, I found a muddy print in the passage, and it wasn't mine, and it wasn't Booker's. His shoes were still where I'd put them, in the small closet where I keep my coat and Wellingtons. I don't want to believe that someone came into my house and talked to Booker, and left him in a state of mind where he killed himself. But the evidence is there." there."
"What size print? A woman's? A man's?"
"I can't judge. A muddy smudge is more descriptive." He rubbed his face with his hands. "I don't want to believe it was Mrs. Denton. But who else? And what am I to do?"
"You said you'd spoken to her. What was she like? Anxious? Unsettled? Afraid that you knew what she'd done?"
"As usual she was full of concern for her daughter. Glad that her suffering was over. Claiming this was a blessed release for Booker. Sometimes I think she could have killed Booker for her daughter's sake and never blinked an eye. And then I look at her and tell myself she's not vicious, just a mother fearing for a child's situation."
I tried to bring Mrs. Denton back to mind. I thought it very likely that she might have tormented Ted Booker to the point he chose to die and release his wife. Not intending, perhaps, to kill him, but driving home what she considered to be the truth, that he was a poor husband for putting his brother before his wife.
"Sometimes the Mrs. Dentons of this world get their way through sheer cruelty," I said with resignation. "And then they deny what they've set in motion because they blotted out the possible effects of their words. They convince themselves."
"Do I tell the police? It would create a sensation if I did, and if I am wrong, I've done to his mother-in-law what she may have done to Booker." He looked up at me, pain clear in his eyes. "I've never had to deal with the murder of a patient before. And I don't know why I should turn to you-"
"Because I'm an objective observer? And I did have a long talk with Lieutenant Booker. Whether it helped or not, we'll never know now. I thought at the time I had his full attention, that he was listening." I considered for a moment. "The police must know whatever you can tell them about Ted Booker's state of mind. As for the inquest-I was leaving today. I've trespassed long enough on the kindness of the Grahams."
"I've more than enough space in my house. But I'm afraid as a single woman-"
"No, it would cause talk. I understand. Is there anyone else I could stay with? Preferably someplace where I'm needed. It will look less like the Grahams had pitched me out."
"Mrs. Turner has just had appendicitis. But what she needs isn't a nurse, so much as someone to cook and clean until she's on her feet again."
"That will do. I've done as much onboard ship, when we were shorthanded. I must draw the line at doing the wash." I indicated my arm.
"You can use the laundress who comes to the Grahams and sees to my needs as well. Mrs. Abbot."
"Then I'll break the news to the Grahams." Somehow I was sure they wouldn't be best pleased. "You can come and collect me at ten. That's when I was leaving for Tonbridge with Jonathan Graham."
"Very well." He got up, smiling. "Women always know what's best, don't they? Food and a willing ear. Are you single, Miss Crawford? You would make an admirable doctor's wife."
He was smiling as he said it, and I gave him my answer with a matching smile.
"Why, Dr. Philips, whatever would you do if I said yes?"
We laughed, and he went out the kitchen door rather than through the house again. I thought he didn't want to encounter the Grahams.
Susan came down the back stairs and said, "What brought the doctor here at such an early hour? I've never seen him so agitated."
"Ted Booker killed himself last night. Despite all our precautions."
"Oh, my dear Lord." She set down her tray and shook her head. "I'm that sorry. He was such a nice young lad. I was quite fond of him. Well, there's the war, of course. It's taken so many young men...."
I went to see Mrs. Graham just before breakfast, and told her that Ted Booker appeared to have killed himself, and I would most likely have to give evidence at the inquest. "I'm so sorry," I added. "It's an inconvenience to everyone. But Dr. Philips is making arrangements-"
Mrs. Graham frowned. "I don't like the way Dr. Philips is using you, Miss Crawford. That's what it is. You're a young woman of good family. What would your father have to say to the doctor's inconsiderate behavior? If you stay in Owlhurst, you remain with us. That's all there is to say."
She pressed her fingers to her face for an instant and then added, "I must call on Mrs. Denton. It's my duty. Perhaps you'd like to go with me?"
"I don't think she will care to see me at such a time. I've defended her son-in-law to her."
"Yes, well, perhaps you're right. I'll dress and go directly after breakfast. There will be arrangements to make. Robert will know what to do about that. I'll ask him to come with me. How tragic, Miss Crawford-it could have been Jonathan, you know, scarred in his mind. The wound on his face could easily have affected his brain. It was deep, very deep."
I didn't try to explain that shell shock didn't begin with a physical wound.
She excused herself, and I went to my room, to write to my parents, then realized that I'd be giving my father an excuse to come and rescue me. Shell shock, murder, inquests-the Colonel Sahib couldn't have stayed away. If need be, he'd bring the Household Cavalry with him.
I had packed my belongings the night before but didn't have the spirit to take them out again. Instead I sat at the desk by the windows of my room and began a letter to Elayne. When it was finished I left it on the silver salver on the little French table in the hall, where someone would see that it was posted.
After that, what to do with myself? I opened the door of the house and stepped out, looking at the sky. To my surprise the clouds had broken, the winds had died down, and after the long spell of frosts and cold, the day was warming quickly. I went up to my room, collected my coat and hat and gloves, and set out for a walk.
As I did, I saw Mrs. Denton and her daughter leaving the rectory. Arranging poor Ted Booker's services, Arranging poor Ted Booker's services, I thought. I would have liked to offer them my sympathy. I thought. I would have liked to offer them my sympathy.
This was my first opportunity to observe Sally. She appeared to be a little younger than I was, but she had a small son and was now a widow. I thought about Ted's promises to me, and felt sad. He had wanted to heal. I wished I could tell his wife that. For her sake...
Her future bleak, her life a shambles now, it was still possible that Sally Booker might find happiness again. In time...
With Timothy? a little voice in my head asked. a little voice in my head asked.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE RECTOR, WALKING briskly across to the church, waved to me, and when I waved back, he waited for me to catch him up. briskly across to the church, waved to me, and when I waved back, he waited for me to catch him up.
"Lovely weather. I see you're enjoying it," Mr. Montgomery said as I came within earshot. "Come in, if you will. I need to work for a bit. This business of Ted Booker's death has disturbed me."
I joined him, and we turned toward the church. "I thought it was your duty to comfort the ill and the grieving."
"Yes, so it is. But to tell you the truth, I feel very uneasy in my mind."
"He killed himself while devastated by the death of his brother," I said, bristling on Ted Booker's behalf. "I can't see how he could be held accountable for his actions, given his state of mind."
"That's not what I was driving at. No, I wonder if we couldn't have made a greater effort, taken the burden from his wife and her mother. I understand twins are very close, closer than brothers even. Harry's death was a terrible shock to Ted. It was wrong of us to expect him to recover from it quickly."
"I don't know that he would have done. I've had some experience with what he was suffering. It's not as simple as grief at the loss of a loved one. It's a measure of guilt, and the mind dwells on what was done or not done, trying to find a way to change the outcome. But of course that's not possible, and so there's no way to escape what happened." I found myself thinking of Peregrine Graham. "He might have had problems for years. And I think that frightened him as much as Harry's death."
"You are very understanding for one so young," he said, smiling.
"I've dealt with broken bodies and broken minds. You learn how to cope. And how to care."
"Are you staying on with us for a time?" We went into the church and felt the cold in the stones that today's sun hadn't begun to warm. I reached in my pocket and pulled on my gloves.
"I was to leave today. But with Mr. Booker's death-it's possible I'll be called to give information at the inquest."
"Indeed. That's very kind of you."
Before thinking, I blurted, "It isn't kindness. I thought he had turned a corner, so to speak, and was better. But in the night, the darkness must have come down again. I should have stayed with him. I thought Dr. Philips would have arranged for someone...."
"He tried, but it wasn't possible."
"I would have come, if he'd asked."
"But he did. Mrs. Graham told him you were leaving this morning, and that she wouldn't interrupt your rest."
I would have sworn, if I hadn't been in a church, with its rector.
Before I could answer that, Mr. Montgomery went on. "Did you know that Jonathan went to speak to him around ten o'clock last evening? I was just coming home from Mrs. Turner's sickbed when I saw him. He waved in my direction but didn't wait to speak to me. I thought perhaps their conversation had brought the war back to him as well. Still, I was glad he'd gone to see Ted. The two families had grown apart, with the war."
"It was kind of him," I said doubtfully.
"Jonathan can be very blunt and to the point, without sympathy, sometimes. But there is good in everyone." We walked down the aisle, and he paused to examine the cushion on one of the kneeling benches. "I'm afraid I was partial to Arthur. He was such a good man."
"Yes, he was," I responded sadly.
He removed the cushion and took out a needle and thread. We sat down in one of the pews, and he mended a corner that was worn. I watched his hands deftly ply the needle, and the work was as good as I might have done. But the next cushion was beyond his skill and he set it aside. "I could ask the women to do this task, but most of them are busy trying to help the war effort. Bandages, knitting scarves and stockings for the men, even vests. But I must admit to the sin of pride when it comes to my church, and I quietly do what's possible before asking for help."
We moved on, and I found it soothing to watch him at work. And I think he enjoyed the companionship as well.
My mind wandered in the stillness, my eyes on the memorial brass that caught the early-morning sun.