“Fear explains a great deal,” she said. “It does not excuse what you chose.”
“I know.”
“No, you do not know yet. Knowing begins when you stop asking the person you hurt to make you feel forgiven.”
Vanessa’s shoulders folded inward.
Daniel looked at his mother.
“Do you want me to call someone for her?”
Margaret considered the question.
“Her brother,” Vanessa said quietly. “He is in the house. Tell him I need to leave.”
Daniel nodded.
Vanessa turned toward the officers and Richard’s departing figure. “And my father?”
Thomas answered. “He will have a lawyer.”
She nodded, but her eyes stayed on the garden.
“Will you keep the house?” she asked.
Thomas almost laughed from exhaustion. “It was never yours to lose.”
“I know.”
The guests began to leave in small groups. Some approached Margaret to offer awkward condolences. Others avoided her entirely. The band packed away its instruments. The caterers covered the food. A bridesmaid removed her shoes and carried them through the mud.
Elaine found Thomas beside the bandstand.
“Do you want me to cancel everything?” she asked.
Thomas looked at the tables, the flowers, the wet place where Margaret had fallen.
“For tonight.”
“And tomorrow?”
He looked at Margaret.
She was sitting beneath the covered terrace while Helen examined her wrist. The skin was bruised but not broken. Her dress was stained beyond saving.
“Tomorrow,” he said, “we start with the truth.”
The officers took Richard away just before dusk.
Helen accompanied them to the station to submit the evidence. Thomas remained at the estate with Margaret, Daniel, and Elaine.
The house was quiet except for the sound of rain against the tall windows.
Margaret changed into a wool robe and sat beside the fire. Thomas knelt in front of her with a bowl of warm water, gently cleaning the mud from her hands.
“I can do that,” she said.
“I know.”
