He remembered the passion and the impotence seething inside him as he had sat on that other table, and the resolve then to learn some skill that would give him weapons to fight injustice, uncover the dark frauds that seemed so inaccessible. That was when he had changed his mind from commerce and its rewards and chosen the police.
Police. He had been arrogant, dedicated, brilliant-and earned himself promotion-and dislike; and now he had nothing left, not even memory of his original skills.
"He what?" Hester demanded as she faced Evan in Mrs. Willis's sitting room. Its dark, Spartan furnishings and religious texts on the walls were sharply familiar to her now, but this news was a blow she could barely comprehend. "What did you say?"
"He refused to arrest Percival, and told Runcorn what he thought of him,'' Evan elaborated. “With the result, of course, that Runcorn threw him off the force.''
"What is he going to do?" She was appalled. The sense of fear and helplessness was too close in her own memory to need imagination, and her position at Queen Anne Street was only temporary. Beatrice was not ill, and now that Percival had been arrested she would in all probability recover in a matter of days, as long as she believed he was guilty. Hester looked at Evan. "Where will he find employment? Has he any family?"
Evan looked at the floor, then up at her again.
“Not here in London, and I don't think he would go to them anyway. I don't know what he'll do," he said unhappily. "It's
all he knows, and I think all he cares about. It's his natural skill."
"Does anybody employ detectives, apart from the police?" she asked.
He smiled, and there was a flash of hope in his eyes, then it faded. "But if he hired out his skills privately, he would need means to live until he developed a reputation-it would be too difficult."
"Perhaps," she said reluctantly, not yet prepared to consider the idea. "In the meantime, what can we do about Per-cival?"
"Can you meet Monk somewhere to discuss it? He can't come here now. Will Lady Moidore give you half an afternoon free?"
"I haven't had any time since I came here. I shall ask. If she permits me, where will he be?"
"It's cold outside." He glanced beyond her to the single, narrow window facing onto a small square of grass and two laurel bushes. "How about the chocolate house in Regent Street?"
"Excellent. I will go and ask Lady Moidore now."
"What will you say?" he asked quickly.
"I shall lie," she answered without hesitation. "I shall say a family emergency has arisen and I need to speak with them.'' She pulled a harsh, humorous face. "She should understand a family emergency, if anyone does!"
"A family emergency." Beatrice turned from staring out of the window at the sky and looked at Hester with consternation. "I'm sorry. Is it illness? I can recommend a doctor, if you do not already have one, but I imagine you do-you must have several."
"Thank you, that is most thoughtful." Hester felt distinctly guilty. "But as far as I know there is no ill health; it is a matter of losing a position, which may cause a considerable amount of hardship."
Beatrice was fully dressed for the first time in several days, but she had not yet ventured into the main rooms of the house, nor had she joined in the life of the household, except to spend a little time with her grandchildren, Julia and Arthur. She looked very pale and her features were drawn. If she felt any relief at Percival's arrest it did not show in her expression. Her body was tense and she stood awkwardly, ill at ease. She forced a smile, bright and unnatural.
"I am so sorry. I hope you will be able to help, even if it is only with comfort and good advice. Sometimes that is all we have for each other-don't you think?'' She swung around and stared at Hester as if the answer were of intense importance to her. Then before Hester could reply she walked away and started fishing in one of her dressing table drawers searching for something.
"Of course you know the police arrested Percival and took him away last night. Mary said it wasn't Mr. Monk. I wonder why. Do you know, Hester?"
There was no possible way Hester could have known the truth except by being privy to police affairs that she could not share.
"I have no idea, your ladyship. Perhaps he has become involved in another matter, and someone else was delegated to do this. After all, the detection has been completed-I suppose."
Beatrice's fingers froze and she stood perfectly still.
"You suppose? You mean it might not? What else could they want? Percival is guilty, isn't he?"
"I don't know." Hester kept her voice quite light. "I assume they must believe so, or they would not have arrested him; though we cannot say beyond any possible doubt until he has been tried."
Beatrice drew more tightly into herself. "They'll hang him, won't they?"
Hester felt a trifle sick. "Yes," she agreed very quietly. Then she felt compelled to persist. "Does that distress you?"
"It shouldn't-should it?" Beatrice sounded surprised at herself. "He murdered my daughter."
"But it does?" Hester allowed nothing to slip by. "It is very final, isn't it? I mean-it allows for no mistakes, no time for second thoughts on anything."
Still Beatrice stood motionless on the spot, her hands plunged in the silks, chiffons and laces in the drawer.
"Second thoughts? What do you mean?"
Now Hester retreated. "I'mnotsure. I suppose another way
of looking at the evidence-perhaps if someone were lying- or remembered inaccurately-"
"You are saying that the murderer is still here-among us, Hester." There was no panic in Beatrice's voice, just cold pain. "And whoever it is, is calmly watching Percival go to his death on-on false evidence."
Hester swallowed hard and found her voice difficult to force into her throat.
"I suppose whoever it is must be very frightened. Perhaps it was an accident at first-I mean it was a struggle that was not meant to end in death. Don't you think?"
At last Beatrice turned around, her hands empty.
"You mean Myles?" she said slowly and distinctly. "You think it was Myles who went to her room and she fought with him and he took the knife from her and stabbed her, because by then he had too much to lose if she should speak against him and told everyone what had happened?" She leaned a little against the chest.”That is what they are saying happened with Percival, you know. Yes, of course you know. You are in the servants' hall more than I am. That's what Mary says."
She looked down at her hands. "And it is what Romola believes. She is terribly relieved, you know. She thinks it is all over now. We can stop suspecting one another. She thought it was Septimus, you know, that Tavie discovered something about him! Which is ridiculous-she always knew his story!" She tried to laugh at the idea, and failed. "Now she imagines we will forget it all and go on just as before. We'll forget everything we've learned about each other-and ourselves: the shallowness, the self-deception, how quick we are to blame someone else when we are afraid. Anything to protect ourselves. As if nothing would be different, except that Tavie won't be here.'' She smiled, a dazzling, nervous gesture without warmth. "Sometimes I think Romola is the stupidest woman I 've ever met.''
“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