William Monk 03 - Defend and Betray

speaking.
    Felicia was very obviously waiting. Apparently it was not merely a rhetorical question; she wished an answer.
    Damaris strode over to her place at the table and sat down with something of a swagger, ignoring the frown which shadowed her mother’s face.
    “She came to see Peverell,” she answered with a slight smile.
    Felicia’s irritation deepened.
    “At luncheon?” Her voice held a chill incredulity. “Surely if it were Peverell she wished to see she would have made an appointment with him in his offices, like anyone else. She would hardly wish to conduct her private business in ourcompany, and over a meal. You must be mistaken, Damaris. Or is this your idea of humor? If it is, it is most misplaced, and I must require you to apologize, and not do such a thing again.”
    “Not humorous at all, Mama,” she said with instant sobriety. “It is in order to help Alex, so it is entirely appropriate that it should be discussed here, with us present. After all, it does concern the whole family, in a way.”
    “Indeed?” Felicia kept her eyes on Damaris’s face. “And what can Miss Latterly possibly do to help Alexandra? It is our tragedy that Alexandra would seem to have lost her sanity.” The skin across her cheekbones tightened as if she were expecting a blow. “Even the best doctors have no cure for such things—and not even God can undo what has already happened.”
    “But we don’t know what has happened, Mama,” Damaris pointed out.
    “We know that Alexandra confessed that she murdered Thaddeus,” Felicia said icily, concealing from them all whatever wells of pain lay beneath the bare words. “You should not have asked Miss Latterly for her help; there is nothing whatsoever that she, or anyone else, can do about the tragedy. We are quite able to find our own doctors who will take care of her disposition to a suitable place of confinement, for her own good, and that of society.” She turned to Hester for the first time since the subject had been raised. “Do you care to take soup, Miss Latterly?”
    “Thank you.” Hester could think of nothing else to say, no excuse or explanation to offer for herself. The whole affair was even worse than she had foreseen. She should have declined the invitation and excused herself. She could have told Edith all she needed to know quite simply and left the rest to Peverell. But it was too late now.
    Felicia nodded to the maid and the tureen was brought in and the soup served in silence.
    After taking several sips Randolf turned to Hester.
    “Well—if it is not a doctor you are counseling us about, Miss Latterly, perhaps we had better know what it is.”
    Felicia looked at him sharply, but he chose to ignore her.
    Hester would like to have told him it was between her and Peverell, but she did not dare. No words came to her that could have been even remotely civil. She looked back at his rather baleful stare and felt acutely uncomfortable.
    There was silence around the table. No one came to her rescue, as if their courage had suddenly deserted them also.
    “I—” She took a deep breath and began again. “I have the acquaintance of a most excellent barrister who has previously fought and won seemingly impossible cases. I thought—I thought Mr. Erskine might wish to consider his services for Mrs. Carlyon.”
    Felicia’s nostrils flared and a spark of cold anger lit her face.
    “Thank you, Miss Latterly, but as I think I have already pointed out, a barrister is not required. My daughter-in-law has already confessed to the crime; there is no case to be argued. It is only a matter of arranging for her to be put away as discreetly as possible in the place best suited to care for her in her state.”
    “She may not be guilty, Mama,” Edith said tentatively, the force and enthusiasm gone out of her voice.
    “Then why would she admit to it, Edith?” Felicia asked without bothering to look at her.
    Edith’s face tightened. “To protect Sabella. Alex isn’t insane, we all know that. But Sabella may well be …”
    “Nonsense!” Felicia said sharply. “She was a trifle emotional after her child was born. It happens from time to time. It passes.” She broke a little brown bread on the plate to her left, her fingers powerful. “Women have been known to kill their children sometimes, in such fits of melancholia, but not their fathers. You should not offer opinions in matters you know nothing about.”
    “She hated Thaddeus!” Edith persisted,