his game had caused
O’Harris.
“It is possible, though I
wouldn’t rule out an accomplice. I’m afraid that puts you back in the picture
colonel, you may have returned later to help Florence.”
“Marvellous!” The colonel
roared merrily, “Of course I do protest my innocence, but it is rather pleasing
to think even at my age a young lady could consider me notorious!”
Clara was hardly listening to
him, she was staring at captain O’Harris’ back and feeling horribly guilty. The
evening party began to break up. Mrs Rhone woke her husband and explained they
were going home. Colonel Brandt picked up his walking stick and unsteadily made
his way to their host, shaking his hand and thanking him for the food and
brandy.
Clara, pushing Tommy in his
wheelchair, was the last to go.
“Don’t be glum.” Tommy said
sympathetically, but Clara knew she had ruined the evening, at least for
O’Harris.
He joined them at the door to
say goodbye.
“Look, I was rather abrupt…” He
began.
“I should not have said so
much.” Clara quickly interrupted, “I should have had more sense, I never was
one for tact.”
“That is true.” Tommy
interjected.
“It’s just…” O’Harris stared at
the high ceiling of the hall, trying to pull together his warring emotions, “I
always thought Uncle Goddard was murdered and that it wasn’t right how no one
was ever caught for the crime. Now you say it might have been auntie Flo and,
well, I stood at that window staring outside and I was furious at your suggestion,
but slowly it occurred to me that it could be true. Isn’t that awful?”
“Sometimes it is best not to
dig up the past.” Clara said unhappily, “I didn’t mean to pain you.”
“No, don’t apologise. This is
something that has hung over the family for years. If auntie Flo did it… and if
she did not… You see Clara, I just have to know. Now you have begun this I have
to know for sure. I wasn’t lying when I said I cared about auntie Flo, I cared
a great deal but we grew to know each other after Goddard died, she seemed…
different after that. I assumed it was the shock and grief, now I have to know
if it was something else.” O’Harris drew a deep breath, “I don’t just flee this
house every winter because of the cold, you know. These walls hold ghosts, oh
not the shrieking, theatrical kind, but memories of those who went before and I
don’t always feel comfortable alone here. Maybe that’s because of what happened
to Goddard, or maybe deep down I have always had my suspicions of my aunt’s
involvement. In any case, I want to know the truth, whether it is painful or
not.”
Clara knew what he was about to
ask and wished he wouldn’t.
“I want you to come back
tomorrow and start investigating my uncle’s death.”
“Mr O’Harris, these old
stories, when you delve into them you are bound to dig up secrets and it can be
hurtful. No one is perfect, but in our memories loved ones can seem better than
they really were and when we scratch at that veneer it can be extremely
painful.”
“I understand that.” O’Harris
persisted, “But I want you to investigate for me. I need to know the truth,
sometimes living with only half an answer is just as hurtful as knowing the
truth.”
“And if I discover the worst?”
“I am a grown man Miss
Fitzgerald, I can handle whatever information you uncover.” O’Harris looked so
forlorn that Clara felt her resolve caving – would it be so bad, after all, to
spend a little more time here in the good captain’s company?
“I can make no promises for a
solution, but I will do what I can.”
“I am so glad you agreed.”
O’Harris said, even raising a smile, “And I will pay for your time, of course,
what is your usual rate?”
“Shilling an hour.” Tommy
interrupted quickly.
Clara wanted to kick him.
“I’ll pay you a pound an hour,
that seems more than fitting for the service you will be doing me.”
“That is too generous…”
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley