‘It was quite extraordinary,’ Evelyn said, perhaps glad of something to say, ‘but she as good as ignored us. Just carried on walking. Almost at a run.’
‘I know we’ve always had our difficulties with Arthur,’ Kit said, ‘but I had hoped we were on better terms with Julia, and young Charles too.’
‘Do you suppose she’s all right?’ asked Romily. ‘I’d heard that Arthur was away in London and I telephoned this morning to invite her to join us for lunch today.’
‘What did she say?’ asked Kit.
‘She didn’t say anything. Miss Casey answered the telephone and told me Mrs Devereux had left instructions not to be disturbed.’
‘Well,’ said Kit, ‘she was most assuredly out and about this morning.’
Romily made a mental note to contact Julia again. Since her return from America she had heard a number of unpleasant rumours flying around the village about the way Arthur treated his wife, but what with one thing and another, she hadn’t found the time to find out if there was any truth in the stories.
‘Pip and Em have expressed a wish to see Hope when they’re back from Stamford, Edmund, would that be okay with you?’ asked Evelyn.
‘I’ll have to check with the hospital,’ her brother said. ‘Some days it’s like Piccadilly Circus there with the number of visitors coming and going.’
‘If you’d rather they didn’t see her,’ said Evelyn softly, ‘I’m sure they’d understand.’
‘Well, they’d understand a darned sight more than I do, in that case!’ Edmund’s voice was unexpectedly loud and caused everyone to stare at him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘it’s just that I can’t make sense of what’s happened to Hope.’
‘We none of us can,’ said Romily gently.
‘The worst of it is, the last words Hope and I spoke were in the heat of a row. I’d give anything to take back those words. Anything.’
‘What did you argue about?’ asked Evelyn.
Edmund put down his knife and fork. ‘That’s the devil of it; I don’t know exactly. I was trying to provoke some sense out of Hope, because for weeks it was as if she was accusing me of something, but she wouldn’t come right out and say what it was.’
‘Did you think she was depressed again?’ This was from Annelise.
Edmund puffed out his cheeks with a long exhalation of breath. ‘Yes and no. I can’t put my finger on it, but I just felt this was different. I felt that I was the cause of her unhappiness, that I couldn’t do anything right for her.’
Romily exchanged a look with Evelyn. They had agreed not to say anything to Edmund about the anonymous letters until they knew more, and also because they didn’t want to burden him with anything else. Evelyn had her own reason for keeping quiet; she didn’t want Kit to know about the letters she had received.
‘But it’s obvious, isn’t it, it was the letter Hope was sent that was making her feel so unhappy?’
Both Romily and Evelyn looked at Stanley in alarm.
He stared back at them and then, as if realising his blunder, that he wasn’t supposed to mention any letters, he frowned and reached for his glass of wine. But the harm was done.
‘What letter?’ demanded Edmund.
After another exchange of anxious glances with Evelyn, and an imperceptible nod from her, Romily outlined what they knew. But without being too specific in Evelyn’s case.
‘And now you know as much as we do,’ she said when she came to the end of her explanation. ‘That Hope, Florence and Evelyn have all been on the receiving end of these spiteful letters. They may well not be the only ones.’
‘This is monstrous!’ exclaimed Edmund, banging his fist on the table. ‘Of course I haven’t been having an affair! Oh my God, that Hope had been taunted into believing I had! No wonder she was so cross with me. I just wish she’d said something.’
Seeing his distress, Annelise reached over to squeeze his hand. ‘It explains so much,’ she said softly. Then to Stanley, she said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Don’t be cross with Stanley,’ Romily said before he had a chance to reply. ‘We agreed to keep it to ourselves until we’d discovered who the perpetrator was.’
‘What did your letters say, Evelyn?’ asked Kit. There was no mistaking the concern in his voice, or face.
‘Just some vindictive tosh,’ Evelyn said airily. ‘Nothing that made any sense.’
