Page 19 of What Cannot Be Said

Sebastian took a slow swallow of his ale. “Is there someone who might know more about her?”

Salinger thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Sorry. She must have had friends, but I’ll be damned if I could name any of them. Alfred’s now a vicar up in Leicestershire, so I doubt he could tell you anything useful, either.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead and down over his eyes. “I know it sounds like I’m being uncooperative, but I really don’t know anything that would be of much use to you. And the truth is, I’m so bloody worried about my children that I’m finding it difficult to think straight.”

“Have the children said anything to you about yesterday?”

“Not really. I know they saw Laura and Emma’s bodies from a distance, but, thankfully, those two lads had the sense to keep the children from getting too close.”

“And neither Percy nor Arabella saw or heard anything that might help explain what happened?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Would you mind if I talked to young Percy?”

Salinger stared at him a moment, then shook his head. “Sorry, but no; I don’t think that would be a good idea. I want the lad to forget what happened yesterday, not dwell on it.”

“Sometimes talking about things is the best way to move past them.”

Salinger’s face hardened. “Not this time.”

“If they know something that could help identify the killer—”

“They don’t. And I won’t have them upset further by being forced to relive the horror of what happened.”

Sebastian took a deep drink of ale and tried to swallow his frustration with it. “How well do you know your brother-in-law?”

“Ivo? I’ve known him most of my life. We were at Harrow and Cambridge together. Laura actually met him through me. Why do you ask?”

“Did you know he used to hit your sister? Hit her hard enough to leave bruises?”

Salinger’s eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t know where you got that, but whoever told you that should be hauled into court for slander.”

“The bruises were discovered during the postmortem examination. You didn’t know that he hit her?”

“No, and I don’t believe it. If she had bruises, she must have fallen.”

“Perhaps,” said Sebastian, and let it go.

Salinger drank deeply of his own ale. “If you ask me, what you ought to be doing is looking into all the bloody undesirables with whom she came into contact at that Foundling Hospital or as a result of this newest start of hers—apprentices or some such thing.”

“Did she talk to you about that?”

“No. She knew how I felt about it.”

“How many people knew about yesterday’s expedition to Richmond Park?”

“The servants, I suppose—mine and Ivo’s. But beyond that, I couldn’t say.” He paused. “Laura was always so good about taking Arabella and Percy—and Duncan, too, of course, when he was younger—on picnics and such. It hasn’t been easy for me, raising the three of them without a mother. I don’t know what I’d have done without Laura.” He glanced away, and although he didn’t say it, the words I don’t know what I’m going to do now without her hung unvoiced in the air. Then he swallowed and said, “It’s going to be hard on the children, losing their aunt and their cousin, too.”

“Yes, I can see that. I’m sorry.” Sebastian drained his tankard and set it aside. “Please accept my condolences on the loss of your sister and niece, and my apologies for having to disturb you at such a painful time.”

“I appreciate your coming,” said Salinger, walking with him to the top of the stairs. “You’ll let me know if you learn anything?”

“Yes, of course.”

Salinger nodded. “Thank you.”

He stayed there, at the top of the stairs, watching as the footman in the entry hall below leapt to open the front door for Sebastian. He was still there when the footman closed the door behind Sebastian.

Glancing back at the house, Sebastian could see Percy’s frustrated face peering down at him from one of the second-floor windows. Then the boy jerked around, as if someone had called his name, and all that was left was the swaying curtain where he had been.

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