Free A Pattern of Lies by Charles Todd

given us all the evidence yet, but this is a start. We’ll know more tomorrow.”
    Mrs. Ashton passed him a cup of tea. I thought perhaps he’d have preferred a whisky, but in deference to his mother he took it, drinking it while still standing.
    â€œI’m sure Mr. Groves knows what he’s doing,” she said briskly, putting a good face on his news. “And we’ll find the best barrister in Kent. In the event your father isn’t released by tomorrow.”
    â€œI’ve spoken to Groves about that. The man’s name is Worley. Lucius Worley. Groves is arranging a meeting with my father as soon as may be.”
    â€œWorley,” Mrs. Ashton said pensively. “I know that name. Now from where?”
    â€œGroves asked my father about him. He said he hasn’t met him.”
    She finished her tea and set the cup on the table. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Looking up, she smiled. “Shall we dress for dinner, tonight? Bess, I’m sure Clara can find something suitable for you. I know how tired you must be, Mark, dear, but keeping up appearances matters most at a time like this.”
    I saw the flicker of doubt in his face, and then he nodded. “Yes, of course.”
    We came down to dinner at seven. Clara had given me a lovely gown in pale peach, which went well with my light brown hair and dark eyes. I tried to remember the last time I’d dressed for dinner in something other than my uniform, but I couldn’t.
    It was not the happiest of meals. I was amazed by what Mrs. Lacey had managed to do, in spite of shortages of nearly everything. Still it didn’t lift our spirits, and afterward, sitting in the drawing room struggling to make pleasant conversation felt rather odd, without Mr. Ashton’s presence. Nan followed us, as she had done all evening, patiently waiting for her master’s return.
    I think we were all relieved when Mrs. Ashton said with a sigh, “I expect I should go up. I’m rather tired. Bess, do you have everything you need?”
    â€œYes, thank you, Mrs. Ashton. And my gratitude to you, Clara, for the loan of your gown.”
    â€œIt suits you,” Mark said, lightly. Then he added, “While waiting for Groves to come back to his chambers, I walked over to the railway station. No sign of a train for you yet. The stationmaster is beside himself.”
    â€œMark, how kind of you to think about that.” I was both amazed and grateful.
    He turned to his cousin. “And, Clara, I must say I’ve always liked that particular blue gown,” he added with a smile. She blushed at the compliment, but thanked him prettily. “I’ll take a turn outside before retiring. Good night, Mother.” He came to kiss her cheek and then walked with us as far as the stairs. Nan got to her feet, shook herself vigorously, and trotted to the door.
    â€œI’ll take her outside,” he said. “And put her in Father’s room afterward.”
    â€œThank you, my dear.”
    When I looked back from the landing, I could see the sadness in his face as his gaze followed his mother. And I couldn’t believe that Mr. Groves had given him any news that could possibly be construed as hopeful.
    My window looked over the high wall and down on the abbey grounds. Even in the light of day there hadn’t been much to see. All that was left was the barest outline of what had once been a prosperous community of monks. No tall traceried windows, empty of glass, no great arches and bits of transepts and towers to give a sense of what once had stood there. Not even the stumps of buttresses. Grass had taken over, covering the foundations, which ran as lumpy lines here and there, and an occasional tree growing out of a jumble of stone offered shade. In the distance I could just see flower borders where someone had tried to add a bit of color to the grounds, but the spirit of the place, the heart of it, had long