William Monk 04 - A Sudden Fearful Death

mouth.
    “You are the nurse employed to accompany Mrs. Farraline on the train?” he demanded. “Good. Perhaps you can tell us what this is all about? Where is Mrs. Farraline? Why have we been kept waiting here?”
    Hester met his eyes for a moment in acknowledgment that she had heard him, then turned to Griselda.
    “I am Hester Latterly. I was employed to accompany Mrs. Farraline. I am deeply sorry to have to bring you very bad news. She was in excellent spirits last evening, and seemed to be quite well, but she passed away in her sleep, during the night. I think she could not have suffered, because she did not cry out….”
    Griselda stared at her as if she had not comprehended a word she had heard.
    “Mother?” She shook her head. “I don’t know what you are saying. She was coming down to London to tell me—I don’t know what. But she said it would all be all right! She said so! She promised me.” She turned helplessly to her husband.
    He ignored her and stared at Hester.
    “What are you saying? That is not an explanation of anything. If Mrs. Farraline was in perfect health yesterday evening, she wouldn’t simply have”—he looked for the right euphemism—“have passed over—without … For heaven’s sake, I thought you were a nurse. What is the point of having a nurse to come with her if this is what happens? You are worse than useless!”
    “Come now, sir,” the stationmaster said reasonably. “If the good lady was getting on in years, and had a bad heart, she could have gone any time. It’s something to be grateful for, she didn’t suffer.”
    “Didn’t suffer, man? She’s dead!” Murdoch exploded.
    Griselda covered her face and collapsed backwards onto the wooden chair behind her.
    “She can’t be gone,” she wailed. “She was going to tell me … I can’t bear this! She promised!”
    Murdoch looked at her, his face filled with confusion, anger and helplessness. He seized on the refuge offered him.
    “Come now, my dear. There is some truth in what the stationmaster says. It was extraordinarily sudden, but we must be grateful that she did not suffer. At least it appears so.”
    Griselda looked at him with horror in her wide eyes. “But she didn’t—I mean, there wasn’t even a letter. It is vitally important. She would never have … Oh this is terrible.” She covered her face again and began to weep.
    Murdoch looked at the stationmaster, ignoring Hester.
    “You must understand, my wife was devoted to her mother. This has been a great shock to her.”
    “Yes sir, only natural,” the stationmaster agreed. “ ’Course it is. Would to anyone, especially a young lady o’ sensibility.”
    Griselda rose to her feet suddenly. “Let me see her!” she demanded, pushing her way forward.
    “Now really, my dear,” Murdoch protested, grasping her shoulders. “That would do no good at all and you must rest. Think of your condition….”
    “But I must!” She fought free of him and confronted Hester, her face so pale the dusting of freckles across her cheeks stood out like dirty marks. Her eyes were wild and staring. “What did she say to you?” she demanded. “She must have told you something! Something about her purpose in coming here—something about me! Didn’t she?”
    “Only that she was coming to reassure you that you had no cause for anxiety,” Hester said gently. “She was quite definite about that. You need have no anxiety at all.”
    “But why?” Griselda said furiously, her hands held up as if she would grasp Hester and shake her if she had dared. “Are you sure? She might not have meant it! She could have been simply—I don’t know—being kind.”
    “I don’t think so,” Hester replied quite frankly. “From what I saw of Mrs. Farraline, she did not speak idly in order to set someone’s mind at rest; if what she had said was not completely true, she need not have mentioned it at all. Of course it is extremely difficult for you at such a dreadful time, but I should try to believe that you really do have no cause for concern.”
    “Would you?” Griselda said eagerly. “Do you think so, Miss …”
    “Latterly. Yes I do.”
    “Come, my dear,” Connal said soothingly. “This is really not important now. We have arrangements to make. And you must write to your family in Edinburgh. There is a great deal to take care of.”
    Griselda turned to him as if he had been speaking a foreign language.
    “What?”
    “Don’t worry yourself. I