chap, I would be very grateful if you could look into poor Veronica’s death.’
Anthony cast a quick look at Tara, wondering if she’d care to have her mother’s death discussed so openly round the dinner table.
She caught his look. ‘I want to know why it happened, Colonel. The police are certain Cedric Chapman killed my mother, but I want to know why.’
‘I wish we didn’t have to discuss it,’ said Josette irritably. ‘We’ve done nothing but ask the same questions endlessly.’
Tara looked surprised. ‘But you want to know just as much as we do, Josette. It was you who suggested Colonel Brooke might like to look into the matter.’
‘That was to put an end to this ceaseless speculation,’ said Josette. She looked at Anthony apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, but we’ve talked about nothing else ever since it happened.’ She looked at the butler. ‘Vyse, you can clear away now.’
As if to make up for her abruptness, she gave Anthony a consciously friendly smile, adding, with a glance at her husband, ‘I’m not going to let you monopolize Colonel Brooke over the port, Patrick. I want to show him the rose garden while there’s still light enough to see.’ She stood up and put a hand on Sherston’s shoulder. ‘We’ll have our coffee in the drawing room afterwards.’
Anthony stood up and, seeing it was expected, offered Josette his arm. He was keeping a tight grip on his emotions.
With her arm in his, they strolled into the gathering dusk of the rose garden. It was a little way from the house, laid out with grass walks and sheltered by a dark belt of trees, the rich smell of roses filling the evening air. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the bats had started their jerky night-time dance. Josette led him to a seat surrounded by an arch of flowers.
‘Please smoke, Colonel, if you want to,’ she said, sitting down. She smiled at him hesitantly. ‘I want to talk to you and I thought this was the best place.’
It was a wonderful place, but between the smell of the roses and the nearness of Josette, he was finding it difficult to think. There was something else, too. He couldn’t quite place it, but he felt as if this had been staged, as if what should have been a private moment was somehow a public performance.
He lit a cigar and took a deep breath of smoke, trying to clear his mind. As he looked at Josette, he didn’t see a very lovely woman but a very anxious one.
‘You’re worried,’ he said gently. ‘Why?’
Josette took a deep breath. ‘Ever since Veronica died we’ve talked about nothing else. I’m very sorry for Tara but it’s hard to be sorry in the right way. Tara’s so strong-minded and so clear-headed she seems ruthless at times. I . . . I don’t know if she really loved Veronica. That’s wrong, isn’t it?’
‘Did Veronica love Tara?’
‘Of course she did! She was her mother. I wish Veronica had been nicer. It would be easier to be sorry then, but she wasn’t nice at all. She hated me. Patrick doesn’t understand how much Veronica hated me. She stored up resentment and would never forgive or forget. God help anyone she ever took against.’
She clearly meant herself. Anthony thought he could guess why Veronica O’Bryan resented Josette so much. After all, Veronica had ruled the roost for years and to have Sherston’s beautiful new wife thrown into the mix must have upset the apple cart good and proper. That could be more or less taken as read. However, there was someone else Veronica had her knife into and he wondered exactly what Josette knew.
‘She disliked Terence Cavanaugh, didn’t she?’ he asked. ‘Why?’
Anthony thought she was going to faint. She started forward and he caught her from falling. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t talk about him.’ She shook herself free.
Anthony reached out. ‘Cavanaugh was my friend.’
She looked up at him. ‘Then . . .’ She hesitated, then spoke in a rush. ‘You don’t understand. Veronica didn’t hate Terry. She loved him and he didn’t love her. All her love turned to hate. She told Patrick it was all Terry’s fault, that he had led her to believe he cared for her. Patrick was furious. I knew the truth and she hated me for knowing. I tried to tell Patrick but he wouldn’t listen. He got angry. You don’t know what a temper he has, but it’s frightening sometimes. He didn’t like me