The Silent Cry by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

of a suitable retaliation at the right moment, or satisfaction that she had. She was frequently furious with him, and he with her. It was not unpleasant, in fact at times it was exhilarating. There was a kind of honesty in it, and it was without real hurt. She would never have struck at any part of him she felt might be genuinely vulnerable.
    So why did their last encounter leave her this ache, this feeling of being bruised inside? She tried to recall exactly what he had said.
    She could not now even remember what the quarrel had been about: something to do with her arbitrariness, a favourite subject with him.
    He had said she was autocratic, that she judged people too harshly and only according to her own standards, which were devoid of laughter or humanity.
    The hansom lurched forward again.
    He said she knew how to nurse the sick and reform the dilatory, the incompetent or the feckless, but she had no idea how to live like an ordinary woman, how to laugh or cry and experience the feelings of anything but a hospital matron, endlessly picking up the disasters of other people's lives, but never having one of her own. Her ceaseless minding of other people's business, the fact that she thought she always knew better, made her a bore.
    The sum of it had been that he could do very well without her, and while her qualities were admirable, and socially very necessary, they were also personally unattractive.
    That was what had hurt. Criticism was fair, it was expected, and she could certainly give him back as much in quality and quantity as she received. But rejection was another thing altogether.
    And it was completely unfair. For once she had done nothing to warrant it. She had remained in London nursing a young man desperately damaged by paralysis. Apart from that, she had been occupied trying to save Oliver Rathbone from himself, in that he had undertaken the defence in a scandalous slander case, and very nearly damaged his own career beyond repair. As it was, it had cost him his reputation in certain circles. Had he not been granted a knighthood shortly before the affair, he could certainly abandon all hope of one now! He had shed too ugly a light on royalty in general to find such favour any more. He was no longer considered as 'sound' as he had been all his life until then. Now he was suddenly 'questionable'.
    But she found herself smiling at the thought of him. Their last meeting had been anything but acrimonious. Theirs was not really a social acquaintance, rather more a professional friendship. He had surprised her by inviting her to accompany him to dinner, and then to the theatre. She had accepted, and enjoyed it so much she recalled it now with a little shiver of pleasure.
    At first she had felt rather awkward at the sudden shift in their relationship. What should she talk about? For once there was no case in which they had a common interest. It was years since she had dined alone with a man for other than professional reasons.
    But she had forgotten how sophisticated he was. She had seen the vulnerable side of him in the slander case. At dinner and at the theatre he was utterly different. Here he was in command. As always he was immaculately dressed in the understated way of a man who knows he does not need to impress, his position is already assured. He had talked easily of all manner of things, art, politics, travel, a little philosophy and a touch of trivial scandal. He had made her laugh. She could picture him now sitting back in his chair, his eyes looking at her very directly. He had unusual eyes, very dark in his lean, narrow face with its fairish hair, long nose and fastidious mouth. She had never known him so relaxed before, as if for a space of time duty and the law had ceased to matter.
    He had mentioned his father once or twice, a man Hester had met several times, and of whom she was extraordinarily fond. He even told her a few stories about his student days and his first, disastrous cases. She had not been