Free The Keeper of Secrets by Judith Cutler

continued, ‘I shall have to speak to her ladyship in my capacity as a justice; it might be – useful – if you were there.’
    She was my kinswoman! ‘What purpose would that serve?’
    He patted me kindly on the shoulder. ‘You are ever a calming influence, Tobias. Equally, you might find it beneficial, when you discuss his interment, to have me at hand. However calm she may be now, such reminders of our last end may cause spasms, palpitations and worse.’
    * * *
    He need not have feared. When Lady Elham admitted us to her boudoir, she had, according to a whispered aside from Lizzie, also already in mourning, been persuaded to take a mouthful of soup. Now a glass of wine was at her right hand as she reclined on her daybed.
    ‘And how is my patient?’ Dr Hansard enquired politely.
    ‘Pray do not treat me as an invalid,’ she snapped. ‘You forget that my family can trace its roots to the days of the Conqueror. People of our class do not give way!’
    As a student of history, I could have pointed out that William the Conqueror tended to bestow largesse on the most vicious of his henchmen; as a student of human nature, I knew better than to bite the hand that regularly provided me with my after-supper cup of tea in an exquisite china cup. Shocked by my levity at such a moment, I flushed and lowered my eyes.
    ‘You cannot persuade me that you underwent such an ordeal with no evil consequences,’ Hansard insisted gently.
    She swung her legs from the daybed until she sat upright; as she did so she pressed a hand to her back and gave a quickly suppressed yelp. ‘One consequence is a terrible pain in my back, Dr Hansard. I tried to drag him out, you see, and he was so very heavy.’ She choked back a sob, swallowing hard and meeting our glance firmly.
    We both nodded sympathetically. ‘Did you see him fall?’ I asked in a low voice.
    ‘We were standing on the bridge together, for a while leaning on the rail to look for fish. At last I walked on – the weather was so very damp that I felt as if it were seeping into my bones. Elham stayed on. Then I heard a splash. Iran back and pulled and shouted and…’
    ‘No more, if it upsets you, Lady Elham.’ Hansard produced smelling salts.
    She waved them away. ‘I managed to get him out. I did. And I think I turned him – no, I left him lying face down, so that the water in his mouth would drain away. I have heard of sailors bringing those on the verge of death by drowning back to life, but I never thought – I had no idea how…’ Her hands moved helplessly. For the first time she was losing her composure. ‘I called for help, and sent a lad who came out of the woods to summon my servants. Then I tried again. Pray, forgive me—’ She turned so that we could not observe her tears.
    ‘It is quite possible that his lordship was dead before he hit the water,’ Hansard said, in the tone of one exploring theories.
    The quiet observation produced an extraordinary response. She was on her feet, pointing a clearly accusing finger. ‘An explanation, if you please!’
    ‘Pray, calm yourself, my lady,’ I urged.
    ‘Not until Hansard explains what he meant by that strange remark!’
    ‘Madam, Lord Elham always ate and drank his fill. I warned him again and again that he should adopt a more abstemious habit. But he constantly disregarded my urgings. I fear that the exertion of his walk, the damp and cold of the day – perhaps, your ladyship, they brought about a seizure, a fatal seizure. If his dead weight fell on the bridge’s handrail it is not unlikely that it gave way and let him plunge into the icy water. Such a shock might in itself have killed a younger, fitter man than he. If this were indeed the case, you should notrepine that you were unable to revive him,’ he concluded, his voice at its kindest.
    As she resumed her seat, he reached for her wrist. ‘I feared so. Your pulse is tumultuous, your ladyship. Pray, let me give a draught to help calm you. It