Her voice muffled in the blanket, Diana asked, “Do you think there is any chance that I can change his mind?”
“Yes, if you’ll come out of that blanket and fight like a woman.” Madeline made her voice teasing and was rewarded by the sight of Diana’s tear-stained face emerging.
“What does it mean to fight like a woman?”
“Think what he likes about you and use it on him. Love, desire, laughter—you would know better than I. And also try to understand all the reasons why he is so angry.”
The hopelessness of Diana’s expression changed to a thoughtful one. After lifting her cup for a sip of tea, she asked, “Do you think it’s because I have injured his pride? That he thinks I deliberately set out to humiliate him?”
Madeline considered, weighing what she knew about St. Aubyn with what she knew about men in general. “Pride would certainly be part of it, but not all,” she said slowly. “From what you said, he thinks you betrayed his trust. That is one of the gravest injuries that can occur between man and woman, and St. Aubyn doesn’t seem like one who would trust easily. He’d bend over backward to give you the benefit of the doubt, which would make apparent betrayal all the more unforgivable.”
“You’re right as always, Maddy,” Diana said with a frown. “I don’t know what to do about it, but it is a beginning.”
Then she remembered a remark of Gervase’s that she hadn’t understood. “He accused me of setting my friend Madeline to ask for money indirectly. Do you know what he was talking about?”
Her friend nodded. “I asked St. Aubyn for regular payments to an account in your name. He was quite willing, so you’re the richer by two hundred pounds a month since last September.” At the stricken expression on Diana’s face, Maddy asked anxiously, “Did it cause a problem?”
“I’m afraid so. He assumed that I was behind it and only pretending innocence.”
“Oh, no! Diana, I’m so sorry,” Madeline said with horrified remorse. “Life is uncertain, and since St. Aubyn was prepared to be generous it seemed foolish not to save toward your future. It worried me how casual you were about financial security. And now he blames you for what I did?”
Maddy had had to earn her own security, so it wasn’t surprising that she had been concerned for her less experienced friend. Now her well-intentioned deed became one more reason for Gervase to think his wife was a liar.
Diana drained the last of the tea. “It doesn’t much matter,” she said wearily. “I had ample other sins to be blamed for.”
She swished her teacup, then held it for a moment with her eyes closed before handing it to Edith. “Please, can you tell me if . . . if everything is over between Gervase and me?”
Edith looked doubtful. “It’s not good to look at matters that are too close to the heart. You care too much about this.”
“Please.” Diana pleaded, “I must know if there is any hope.”
Edith reluctantly accepted the cup and stared into the bottom with unfocused eyes. Her breathing slowed and when she spoke it was in a distant voice. “It has not ended. There is much between you, both dark and light.” She frowned and swirled the cup. “The end has not yet been written. There is danger, and not just to you. Darkness threatens.” In a low, uncanny voice, she finished, “Darkness, death, and desire.”
The soft intake of Diana’s breath broke Edith’s mood and she looked up, her voice brisk again. “You’ll get a deal more use from this cup by putting tea in it, lass,” she said, pouring the last of the tea from the pot and reaching for the brandy.
“I’m not sure I need it,” Diana protested. “I’m almost asleep right here on Maddy’s sofa.”
“You’re exhausted, and we’re keeping you up with our questions,” Madeline said with compunction. Offering a friendly arm, she guided Diana to her bedroom, leaving her after a hug.
Back in Maddy’s room, Edith said thoughtfully, “Do you know, it’s time I paid a visit to my sister Jane on Mull.”
Knowing the older woman’s oblique manner of speaking, Madeline poured a dollop of brandy into both their teacups. “I suppose it’s only a coincidence that the route to Mull would take you near that Lowland Scots village where Diana grew up.”
“Aye, just a coincidence.” Edith sipped her brandy pensively. “I should think everyone in the neighborhood knows about the mad vicar.”
“Very likely,” Maddy agreed, curling her feet up beneath her. “It probably isn’t important, but it would be interesting to know more about him. To know if he’s even alive.” She glanced at her friend sternly. “If he is still on this mortal coil, I trust you will not aid him to his heavenly reward?”
“Of course not,” Edith said with dignity. “I’ve never raised a hand to anyone since I parted my husband’s hair with a poker the night I left.” Her mouth twisted. “The vile gaffer didn’t want me to go.”
“Did you really?” Madeline asked in astonishment. Then she broke down into giggles. “I think I’ve had more than enough brandy, because that sounds very amusing. Did you kill him?”
“No,” Edith said with regret. “Wasn’t a heavy poker.”
“Ishestill alive?”
“After I left, he found another woman to take care of him. He beat her to death one night, so they hanged him.”
Maddy gulped, sobered by Edith’s dispassionate words. After a long silence she said, “All three of us had our secrets about men. Strange how they are all surfacing at the same time.”
