Free The Silent Cry by Anne Perry Page B

Wade did indeed come, and not perhaps feel that Rhys was recovering and another patient might need him more.
    "I must go to him," Sylvestra said immediately, her face pinched with anguish. "I feel so… useless! I don't know what to say or do to help him! I don't know what happened!" She stared at Hesteras if believing she could supply an answer.
    There had never been an answer, not to Rhys, or to all the other young men who had seen atrocities more than they could bear, except that time and love can heal, at least a part of the pain.
    "Don't try to talk about what happened," she advised. "All the help you can give is simply to be there.”
    But when Sylvestra came into the bedroom Rhys turned away. He refused to look at her. She sat on the edge of the bed, putting out her hand to touch his arm where it lay on the coverlet, and he snatched it away, then when she reached after him again he lashed out at her, catching her hand with his splints, hurting both her and himself.
    Sylvestra gave a little cry of distress, not for the physical pain, but the rebuff. She sat motionless, not knowing what to do.
    Rhys turned his head and kept his face away from her.
    She looked at Hester.
    Hester had no idea why he had acted with such sudden cruelty, beyond that she had already considered. It was impossible even to guess the reason his recent injury, a feeling of guilt that perhaps he should have been able to save his father, or if not, that he should also have died. She knew of men whose shame at their own survival, when their comrades had perished, was beyond any reason or comfort to console. It was unreachable, and attempts in words by those who could never truly understand only highlighted the gulf between them, the utter loneliness.
    But none of that would touch the hurt in Sylvestra.
    "Come downstairs," Hester said quietly. "We'll let him rest, at least until the doctor comes.”
    "But…”
    Hester shook her head. Rhys was still lying motionless and stiff.
    Persuasion would not help.
    Reluctantly Sylvestra rose and followed Hester out and across the corridor and landing and downstairs again. She did not say anything.
    She was closed in a world of her own confusion.
    Shortly after luncheon the maid announced that the man from the police was here again.
    "Will you stay?" Sylvestra asked quickly. "I should prefer it.”
    "Are you sure?" Hester was surprised. Usually people chose to keep such invasions of their privacy from as many as possible.
    "Yes." Sylvestra was quite decisive. "Yes. If he has anything to tell us, it will be easier for Rhys if you know it also. I…" It was not necessary to say how frightened she was for him, it was only too plain in her face.
    Evan was shown in. He looked cold and unhappy. The maid had taken his hat and outer coat, but his trouser legs were wet at the bottom, his boots were soaked, and his cheeks glistened with splashes of rain. It was some time since Hester had last seen him, but they had shared many experiences, both of triumph and of fear and pain, and she had always liked him. There was a gentleness and honesty in him which she admired. And he was sometimes more perceptive than Monk gave him credit for. Now it was discreet to behave as if they were strangers.
    Sylvestra introduced them, and Evan made no reference to past acquaintance.
    "How is Mr. Duff?" he asked.
    "He is very ill," Sylvestra said quickly. "He has not spoken, if that is what you are hoping. I am afraid I know nothing further.”
    "I'm sorry." His face crumpled a little. It was highly expressive, mirroring his thoughts and feelings more than he wished. He was a trifle thin, with bright hazel eyes and an aquiline nose, rather too long. His words came from sympathy, not annoyance.
    "Have you… learned anything?" she asked. She was breathing rather quickly and her hands were held tightly together on her lap, fingers clenched around each other.
    "Very little, Mrs. Duff," he replied. "If anyone saw what happened, they are not willing