William Monk 03 - Defend and Betray

did not know how easy it was to become dependent upon it.
    As soon as the door was closed in the sitting room Edith threw herself onto the largest sofa and pulled her legs up under her, regardless of the inelegance of the position and the ruination of her skirt. She stared at Hester, her curious face with its aquiline nose and gentle mouth filled with consternation.
    “Hester—it’s going to be terrible!”
    “Of course it is,” Hester agreed quietly. “Whatever the result, the trial is going to be ghastly. Someone was murdered. That can only ever be a tragedy, whoever did it, or why.”
    “Why …” Edith hugged her knees and stared at the floor. “We don’t even know that, do we.” It was not a question.
    “We don’t,” Hester said thoughtfully, watching Edith’s face. “But do you think Damaris might?”
    Edith jerked up, her eyes wide. “Damaris? Why? How would she? Why do you say that?”
    “She knew something that evening. She was almost distracted with emotion—on the verge of hysteria, they said.”
    “Who said? Pev didn’t tell us.”
    “It doesn’t seem as if he knew why,” Hester replied. “But according to what Monk was able to find out, from quite early in the evening, long before the general was killed, Damaris was so frantic about something she could barely keep control of herself. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,but maybe she knew why Alexandra did it. Perhaps she even feared it would happen, before it did.”
    “But if she knew …” Edith said slowly, her face filled with distress and dawning horror. “No—she would have stopped it. Are you—are you saying Damaris was part of it?”
    “No. No, certainly not,” Hester denied quickly. “I mean she may have feared it would happen, because perhaps what caused her to be so terribly upset was the knowledge of why Alexandra would do such a thing. And if it is something so secret that Alexandra would rather hang than tell anyone, then I believe Damaris will honor her feelings and keep the secret for her.”
    “Yes,” Edith agreed slowly, her face very white. “Yes, she would. It would be her sense of honor. But what could it be? I can’t think of anything so—so terrible, so dark that …” She tailed off, unable to find words for the thought.
    “Neither can I,” Hester agreed. “But it exists—it must—or why will Alexandra not tell us why she killed the general?”
    “I don’t know.” Edith bent her head to her knees.
    There was a knock on the door, nervous and urgent. Edith looked up, surprised. Servants did not knock.
    “Yes?” She unwound herself and put her feet down. “Come in.”
    The door opened and Cassian stood there, his face pale, his eyes frightened.
    “Aunt Edith, Miss Buchan and Cook are fighting again!” His voice was ragged and a little high. “Cook has a carving knife!”
    “Oh—” Edith stifled an unladylike word and rose. Cassian took a step towards her and she put an arm around him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. You stay here. Hester …”
    Hester was on her feet.
    “Come with me, if you don’t mind,” Edith said urgently. “It may take two of us, if it’s as bad as Cass says. Stay here, Cass! It will be all right, I promise!” And without waiting any further she led the way out of the sitting room, alongtowards the back landing. Before they had reached the servants’ stairs it was only too apparent that Cassian was right.
    “You’ve no place ’ere, yer miserable old biddy! You should a’ bin put out ter grass like the dried-up old mare yer are!”
    “And you should have been left in the sty in the first place, you fat sow,” came back the stinging reply.
    “Fat indeed, is it? And what man’d look at you, yer withered old bag o’ bones? No wonder yer spend yer life looking after other folks’ children! Nobody’d ever get any on you!”
    “And where are yours, then? Litters of them. One every season—running around on all fours in the byre, I shouldn’t wonder. With snouts for noses and trotters for feet.”
    “I’ll cut yer gizzard out, yer sour old fool! Ah!”
    There was a shriek, then laughter.
    “Oh damnation!” Edith said exasperatedly. “This sounds worse than usual.”
    “Missed!” came the crow of delight. “You drunken sot! Couldn’t hit a barn door if it was in front of you—you crosseyed pig!”
    “Ah!”
    Then a shriek from the kitchen maid and a shout from the footman.
    Edith scrambled down the last of