William Monk 03 - Defend and Betray

it is going to be awful,” Felicia said thickly. “That is the reason why we must think carefully what we are going to say beforehand, speak only the truth, say nothing malicious or undignified, whatever we may feel, answer only what we are asked, exactly and precisely, and at all times remember who we are!”
    Damaris swallowed convulsively.
    Cassian stared at her with huge eyes, his lips parted.
    Randolf sat up a trifle straighter.
    “Offer no opinions,” Felicia continued. “Remember that the vulgar press will write down everything you say, and quite probably distort it. That you cannot help. But you can most certainly help your deportment, your diction, and the fact that you do not lie, prevaricate, giggle, faint, weep or otherwise disgrace yourself by being less than the ladies you are—or the gentlemen, as the case is. Alexandra is the one who is accused, but the whole family will be on trial.”
    “Thank you, my dear.” Randolf looked at her with a mixture of obligation, gratitude and an awe which for one ridiculous moment Hester imagined was akin to fear. “As always you have done what is necessary.”
    Felicia said nothing. A flicker of pain passed across her rigid features, but it was gone again almost as soon as it was there. She did not indulge in such things; she could not afford to.
    “Yes, Mama,” Damaris said obediently. “We will all do our best to acquit ourselves with dignity and honesty.”
    “You will not be required,” Felicia said, but there was a slight melting in her tone, and their eyes met for a moment. “But of course if you choose to attend, you will be noticed, and no doubt some busybody will recognize you as a Carlyon.”
    “Will I go, Grandmama?” Cassian asked, his face troubled.
    “No, my dear, you will certainly not go. You will remain here with Miss Buchan.”
    “Won’t Mama expect me to be there?”
    “No, she will wish you to be here where you can be comfortable. You will be told all you need to know.” She turned away from him to Peverell again and continued to discuss the general’s last will and testament. It was a somewhat simple document that needed little explanation, but presumably she chose to argue it as a final closing of any other subject.
    Everyone bent to continue with the meal, hitherto eaten entirely mechanically. Indeed Hester had no idea what any of the courses had been or even how many there were.
    Now her mind turned to Damaris, and the intense, almost passionate emotion she had seen in her face, the swift play from sorrow to amazement to fear, and then the deep pain.
    And according to Monk, several people had said she had behaved in a highly emotional manner on the evening of the general’s death, bordering on the edge of hysteria, and been extremely offensive to Maxim Furnival.
    Why? Peverell seemed to know nothing of its cause, nor had he been able to comfort her or offer any help at all.
    Was it conceivable that she knew there was going to be violence, even murder? Or had she seen it? No—no one else had seen it, and Damaris had been distracted with some deep torment of her own long before Alexandra had followed Thaddeus upstairs. And why the rage at Maxim?
    But then if the motive for the murder was something other than the stupid jealousy Alexandra had seized on, perhaps Damaris knew what it was? And knowing it, she might have foreseen it would end as it did.
    Why had she said nothing? Why had she not trusted that Peverell and she together might have prevented it? It was perfectly obvious Peverell had no idea what troubled her; the expression in his eyes as he looked at her, the way he half spoke, and then fell silent, were all eloquent witness of that.
    Was it the same horror, force, or fear that kept Alexandra silent even in the shadow of the hangman’s rope?
    In something of a daze Hester left the table and togetherwith Edith went slowly upstairs to her sitting room. Damaris and Peverell had their own wing of the house, and frequently chose to be there rather than in the main rooms with the rest of the family. Hester thought it was extremely long-suffering of Peverell to live in Carlyon House at all, but possibly he could not afford to keep Damaris in this style, or anything like it, otherwise. It was a curious side to Damaris’s character that she did not prefer independence and privacy, at the relatively small price of a modest household, instead of this very lavish one. But then Hester had never been used to luxury, so she