Page 71 of Corpse in the Canal

Constance nodded. “Good idea.” She drank her tea in silence for a moment, then her eyes widened. “Solomon!”

“Yes?”

“I don’t feel remotely sick! It must be time for breakfast. Thank you for the toast. I don’t know where you got the idea, but it is perfect!” She leaned forward and kissed him, and he felt ridiculously proud.

*

Over the coming days, Solomon knew, he would develop new concerns, worrying for Constance’s health and that of the baby she carried, considering financial settlements so that the child would always be secure, changes to their own lives and staff, and hundreds of other details, big and small.

But for now, walking at her side along the wooded path toward Dare Hall, dappled sunshine spilling on them through the trees while the birds sang, he was conscious only of a profound happiness overlaid with peace. All is well with Constance. I am going to be a father. I am going to be a father…

He thought he would remember this morning forever, the musty forest scents overlaid with pine, the crunch of fallen leaves beneath his feet, the golds and browns and reds of the trees. For him, the child of Jamaica, these changing seasons in England were still fascinating—as they seemed to be to Constance, a child of the city. She had found her own calm, allowing herself to be happy, and not just because he was. The baby would bring huge changes to their lives, and no doubt a clash of opinions and wills as they learned to negotiate the new reality. But all would be well, because they were together.

Her hand slipped into his. There was no need of words. A moment of trust and happiness—and support, for she understood the difficulties he would face, should Adelaide be the one who shot Percy.

Emerging from the wood, they walked up the path to Dare Hall and found Adelaide pruning the rosebushes at the front of the house. She wore an old wide-brimmed bonnet and gardening gloves and looked rather lovely in the morning sunlight. With an odd dispassion, he remembered how and why he had been so drawn to her. Beauty, the shared problems of those of mixed race in a turbulent society, belonging to neither and trusted by few. In England, the challenges were different, but the problem remained basically the same.

Clearly lost in her own thoughts, Adelaide did not notice them at once.

“Good morning!” Solomon called, and she straightened abruptly, swinging around to face him.

“Solomon. Mrs. Grey.” Impossible to say if she was pleased or disappointed, or just annoyed by the disturbance.

“It is a beautiful morning, is it not?” Constance said.

“One has to make the most of those in this country. I daresay it will be raining by noon. Some coffee, perhaps?” Adelaide indicated the table and chairs farther along the front terrace, warmed by the sun. “Outdoors, or inside?”

“It looks lovely here, if you are happy with the outdoors,” Constance said.

“Then if you’ll excuse me one moment, I’ll give the orders and wash my hands.”

She vanished into the house but was gone only a few moments.

Solomon rose again and politely held her chair. “Is Clarence not around this morning?”

“He practices letters and numbers in the mornings,” Adelaide said.

“Then he has a tutor already?”

“Not yet. I’m teaching him myself, but when I give him exercises, he is very good at doing them alone. I expect him to burst through the door in about twenty minutes! But soon I suppose I will have to decide between a private tutor and sending him to school. And then between the local charity school and sending him away from home.”

Constance was watching her quite closely.

Adelaide looked up suddenly and met her gaze. “But you didn’t come to hear me prattle about my son’s education, did you? What is it you want to know?”

There was a challenge in that, though Solomon couldn’t quite work out where it was aimed.

He said bluntly, “We are looking for the pistol that killed Percy. So we are trying to eliminate all such weapons in the local area.”

“And how is that going?” she asked. “Ah, here comes coffee. I do prefer it to tea, don’t you?”

Was she being too deliberately careless? “Slowly,” he replied to her first question, as the maid laid the tray in front of Adelaide. He waited until she was out of earshot again, and Adelaide had poured three cups from the pot. “You had a pistol in Jamaica. Do you still have it?”

“Sugar and cream?” Adelaide passed the first cup to Constance, indicating she should help herself from the bowl and the jug beside her. Only then did she spare Solomon a glance. “Yes, I do.”

“Perhaps you would show it to me before we go?”

“Of course.”