in the middle of an established difference.
Benjamin looked at his brother, then at his sister-in-law, aware that he had missed something, but not certain what it was. “Are you sure you would not prefer to have Henry with you?” he asked.
“Quite sure,” Naomi answered. “If Gower sees me with anyone from this house we will in a sense have tipped our hands.” She looked at Antonia, and bit her lip. “Sorry. That is a card-playing expression I haveheard men use. I’m afraid I have mixed with some odd company when traveling. Geological sites are not always in the most civilized of places.”
Antonia smiled for the first time since Henry had arrived, perhaps since Judah’s death. “Please don’t apologize. Some time, when this is past, I would like to hear more about it. There are advantages to having a family, but there are chances you lose as well. But I understand the reference. You might be surprised how fierce and how devious some of the ladies of the village can be about their cards.”
Now it was Naomi who smiled self-consciously. “Of course, I didn’t think of that. The desire to play and to win is universal, I suppose. But believe me, I shall play better against Mr. Gower if I do it alone.”
Benjamin conceded. “I shall go to the village, then follow the path Gower must have taken to see exactly how long it requires, including walking up the bed of the stream.”
“You’ll freeze!” Antonia exclaimed with concern.
He smiled at her. “Probably. But I’ll survive. I’ll have a hot bath when I get back. I won’t be the onlyman to get soaked through. Shepherds do it regularly. It’s time we did something for Judah, apart from talk, and grieve.”
No one argued with him. As he stood up he glanced at Henry. They had not asked him to do anything specific, but the question was in Benjamin’s eyes, and Ephraim’s also as he rose.
“Oh, I have one or two things to be about,” Henry said, excusing himself as they parted in the hallway, he to go upstairs, change into heavier clothes, then head out to the stables to borrow a horse. He was not willing to tell them what he intended. He looked further ahead, and for that he needed to speak to Judah’s clerk in his offices in Penrith.
He rode out quickly, hoping not to be seen. He did not wish to be asked his purpose, not yet.
As he climbed the steep road eastward, the wind behind him, he turned it over in his mind. What if Benjamin were to discover that it was not practically possible for Gower to have traveled the distance in the time he had? What if Naomi’s questions actually proved Gower’s innocence, not of intent, but of beingable to have committed the act himself? If they failed to prove Gower’s guilt, what lay ahead after that? He wanted to find something, a next step to take, other answers to seek. Was there anyone else Gower could have used, willingly or not? Might there have been an ally in the original case, someone who had not come to light then? Did anyone else profit from that tragedy, or from this?
It was a fine horse, and he found the ride exhilarating, his mind sharper.
There was always the major possibility that in their loathing of Gower and his appalling accusations, they seemed not to have considered whether Judah had other enemies. He had been a judge for some time. There was little enough crime of any seriousness in the Lakes, but it did exist. He must have sentenced other men to fines or imprisonment.
Who else bore him grudges? He did not think for an instant that Judah had been corrupted in anything, but that did not mean that others could not imagine it. Many people refuse to accept that they, or those they love, can be in the wrong, or to blame fortheir misfortunes. In the short term, it seems easier to blame someone else, to let anger and pride encase you in denial. Some live in it forever. Some accept their own part only when all vengeance has proved futile in healing the flaw that brought them down. The
J. S. Cooper, Helen Cooper