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

sure whether to sympathise or be amused. She had looked at his face, and ended laughing. He had not seemed to mind in the least.
    They had nearly been late for the theatre and had taken their seats almost as the curtain rose. It was a melodrama a terrible play. She had sat trying not to acknowledge to herself how bad it was. She must keep facing the stage. Rathbone sitting beside her would be bound to be aware if she gazed around or took more interest in the other members of the audience. She had sat rigidly facing forwards, trying to enjoy it.
    Then she had glanced at him, after one particularly dreadful sequence of lines, and saw him wince. A few moments later she had looked at him again, and this time found him looking back, his eyes bright with rueful amusement.
    She had dissolved in giggles, and knew that when he pulled out a large handkerchief and held it to his mouth, it was for the same reason. Then he had leaned across to her and whispered, "Shall we leave, before they ask us not to disrupt the performance?" and she had been delighted to agree.
    Afterwards they had walked along the icy street still laughing, mimicking some of the worst lines and parodying the scenes. They had stopped by a brazier where a street peddler was selling roasted chestnuts, and he had bought two packets, and they had walked along together trying not to burn their fingers or their tongues.
    It had been one of the happiest evenings she could remember, and curiously comfortable.
    She was still smiling at its recollection when the hansom reached her destination in Ebury Street and set her down, with her luggage. She paid the driver and presented herself at the side door, where a footman helped her in with her case and directed her to where she should wait to meet the mistress.
    Hester had been told little about the circumstances of Rhys Duffs injuries, only that they were sustained in an attack in which his father had been killed. She had been far more concerned with the nature of his distress and what measures she could take to help him. She had seen Dr. Riley at the hospital, and he had professed a continuing interest in Rhys Duffs ease, but it was the family doctor, Corriden Wade, who had approached her. He had told her only that Rhys Duff was suffering from profound bruising both external and internal. He was in a state of the most serious shock, and had so far not spoken since the incident. She should not try to make him respond, except in so far as to make his wishes known regarding his comfort. Her task was to relieve his pain as far as was possible, to change the dressings of his minor external wounds. Dr. Wade himself would care for the more major ones. She must keep him clean, warm and prepare for him such food as he was willing to take. This, of course, should be bland and nourishing.
    She was also to keep his room warm and pleasant for him, and to read to him if he should show any desire for it. The choice of material was to be made with great care. There must be nothing disturbing, either to the emotions or the intellect, and nothing which would excite him or keep him from as much rest as he was able to find. In Hester's view, that excluded almost everything that was worthy of either the time or effort of reading. If it did not stir the intellect, the emotions or the imagination, what point was there in it? Should she read him the railway timetable?
    But she had merely nodded and answered obediently.
    When Sylvestra Duff came into the room she was a complete surprise.
    Hester had not formed a picture of her in her mind, but she realised she had expected someone as anodyne as Dr. Wade's regimen for Rhys.
    Sylvestra was anything but bland. She was, very naturally, dressed entirely in black, but on her tall, very slender figure and with her intense colouring, it was dramatic and most flattering. She was pale with shock still, and moved as if she needed to be careful in case in her daze she bumped into things, but there was a grace and a