William Monk 18 - A Sunless Sea

Indeed, the money came out of the housekeeping account and was noted in the household ledger, on the twenty-first day of every month. Dinah says that she admired Dr. Lambourn for caring for Mrs. Gadney in that way, and when the will was probated she intended to continue doing so.”
    Amity’s eyes widened. “And you believe her? Sir Oliver, perhaps there is something you are unaware of. I would not mention it, even now—I find it distasteful, a discredit to my brother, and it is something I would much rather remain a family secret. But in light of what you just said, I feel it is my responsibility to tell you. Zenia Gadney, or should I say Zenia
Lambourn
, was my brother’s widow, legally. She was entitled to his entire estate, not a few pounds every month, bestowed on her at the discretion of a woman who was actually no more than his mistress.”
    Rathbone stared at Amity. “So you do know the truth, then,” he said grimly.
    She met his gaze unflinchingly. She showed no sign of being embarrassed by her lie, or surprised that Rathbone knew her brother’s secret. “I do. But I saw no reason to make that truth publicly known, for Dinah’s sake. Can you imagine how she would look in the jury’s eyes when they find out that she was nothing more than Joel’s mistress, mother of two illegitimate children? It is better for the world to see poor Zenia as the other woman. But I imagine if you have discovered the fact that Joel and Zenia were married, Coniston will be able to as well.”
    “Amity …,” Herne protested.
    She ignored him. “If Coniston brings the facts to light, you would have difficulty in presenting your theory to a jury in a sympathetic light, Sir Oliver. Killing for money, even to feed your children, is not justified. Most particularly with that insane degree of savagery. If I were Mr. Coniston, I would suggest to them that Joel had begun to grow tired of Dinah, and was considering asking Zenia to return to him, as his lawful wife, and that was what threw Dinah into such a frenzy of hatred.”
    “For God’s sake, Amity!” Herne burst out. “Do you need to—”
    “Please do not blaspheme, Barclay,” she said quietly. “Especially on the Sabbath, and in front of our guest. I am not advocating such a course, only warning Sir Oliver what may happen in the prosecutor’s summing up of the case. Surely it is better he be prepared for it?”
    Rathbone felt the coldness increase inside him. He hated what she had said, and the calm, intelligent way in which she had framed it, but it was true. In Coniston’s place he might do the same.
    “I had not considered such a thing,” he admitted aloud. “But of course you are right. While I do not believe what you suggest, neither can I offer any proof that it is untrue.”
    “I’m sorry. I wish we could help you,” Amity said more gently. “But in the end only the truth will serve.”
    Barclay leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. Was he more deeply distressed than his wife? Or was he simply more overtly emotional? Lambourn had been Amity’s brother. Perhaps there was an element in her that could not forgive Dinah for the grief she had caused him.
    “Did you know Zenia well?” Rathbone asked, looking at Amity. “I mean before whatever it was that caused her addiction, and her separation from Dr. Lambourn.”
    A look of confusion crossed Amity’s face. Clearly she had not anticipated the question. She hesitated, searching for the right answer.
    “No,” Herne put in for her. “We were not living in the same area then, and at that time my wife was not well enough to travel. Joel told us that Zenia was quiet, gentle, a very decent woman but somewhat ordinary.”
    Amity turned to Rathbone, irritation marking two tiny lines between her fine brows. “What my husband means is that she was not eccentric, and she did not draw attention to herself.”
    Unlike Dinah, Rathbone thought, but he did not say so. Against his will, he thought of Margaret, and then of Hester. There had been a time when he had found Margaret’s quiet dignity, her grace and composure, to be beautiful, and exactly what he most wished in a woman, particularly in a wife. The passion and energy of Hester had been too exhausting, far too unpredictable. But perhaps he had been in love with Hester in a way he never was with Margaret?
    Then why had he not pursued Hester, before she married Monk? Had that been out of wisdom, knowing better than