serious fault with the child, or some irreparable defect. That is a bad habit, and one men dislike intensely, unless, of course, it is something wrong with them.” She stood at the compartment entrance, slender and very straight, a smile on her lips. “I shall warn Griselda of that. And assure her that she has no cause for anxiety. Her child will be perfectly well.”
The train was slowing again, and when it reached the station they both alighted to take advantage of the facilitiesoffered. Hester found herself returned to the carriage first. She did what she could to tidy the seats, spread the rug ready for Mary and shook the footwarmer again. It really was getting very chilly now and the darkness beyond the windows was spotted with rain. She took down the medicine chest and opened it. The vials were all stacked in neat rows, the first one already used, the glass empty. She had not noticed it when she had seen it in Edinburgh, but the glass was tinted and the liquid hard to see. Nora must have used that one this morning, which was foolish. That meant they were one short. Still, possibly it was easy enough to replace, providing she warned Mary in time.
She stifled a yawn with difficulty. She really was very tired. It had been thirty-six hours since she had had a proper sleep. At least tonight she would be able to put her feet up and relax, instead of sitting upright between two other people. “Oh, you have the chest down,” Mary said from the entranceway. “I suppose you are right. Morning will be here soon enough.” She came in, swaying a little with the rough movement as the train jerked forward and began to pick up speed.
Hester put out her hand to steady her, and Mary sat down.
The conductor appeared at the doorway, his uniform spotless, buttons gleaming.
“Evening, ladies. Everything well wi’ ye?” He touched the peak of his cap with his forefinger.
Mary had been staring out of the window at the streaming night, not that there was anything to see but the rain and the darkness. She turned around abruptly. Then her face paled for an instant, before the calm returned in a flood of relief.
“Oh, yes, thank you.” She took a quick breath. “Yes, all is well.”
“Right y’are, ma’am. Then I’ll bid ye good night. London at a quarter past nine.”
“Yes, thank you. Good night.”
“Good night,” Hester added as he retreated quickly, walking with a peculiar ungainliness that kept his balance perfectly.
“Are you all right?” Hester said anxiously. “Did he startle you? I think perhaps we are a little late with your medicine. I must insist you take it now. You do look rather pale.”
Mary pulled the rug over herself and Hester tucked it around her.
“Yes, I am perfectly all right,” Mary said firmly. “The wretched man reminded me of someone else, that long nose and brown eyes; he looked just like Archie Frazer for a moment.”
“Someone you dislike?” Hester took the stopper out of the vial and poured the liquid into the little glass provided.
“I don’t know the man personally.” Mary’s lip curled in distaste. “He was a witness in the Galbraith case, at least what should have been the Galbraith case, had it come to court. It was dismissed. Alastair said there was insufficient evidence.”
Hester offered her the glass and she took it and drank, pulling a slight face. Oonagh had also packed some small sugared sweets to take away the taste, and Hester offered her one. She took it gratefully.
“Then Mr. Frazer was a public figure?” She pursued the subject to take Mary’s mind off the taste of the medicine. She returned the glass to its place and closed the chest, lifting it back onto the luggage rack.
“More or less.” Mary lay down and made herself as comfortable as she could, and Hester tucked the rug more closely around her.
“He visited the house one night,” Mary continued. “A little weasel of a man, creeping in and out like some nocturnal creature bent on no