“Cormac’s very attractive,” Rachel answered defensively. “But I never really thought of him in that way—”

“Nicholas didn’t like him, and so you didn’t!” Susannah retorted.

“Why didn’t Nicholas like him?” Rutledge asked before Rachel could answer. Jenny was watching them, her face inquisitive, but he kept his eyes on Susannah and Rachel.

“Nicholas was the oldest son. Until Cormac’s father married Rosamund,” Susannah said. “It put his nose out of joint, I think. This newcomer lording it over him. Except that Cor-mac didn’t lord it over anyone.”

“That’s not true! Nicholas was never jealous. It was something else, something I never did really understand until I asked Rosamund about it once, and she said that Cormac’s father replaced Nicholas’ father, and sons often found that hard to swallow.” She turned quickly, her eyes flying to Rut-ledge’s face. “I’d forgotten that conversation,” she said, surprised. “I don’t know why it suddenly came to mind. What happened last night must have jarred my memory—”

“What do you mean, what happened?” Susannah broke in, sitting up straight, her face sharp with curiosity. “What are you talking about!”

But Rutledge knew what Rachel was thinking, that he had stirred up the past, like a stick spun in muddy water, churning up what lay at the bottom, wanted or not.

“Family relationships,” Rutledge answered for her. “We were discussing them. After dinner.”

Disappointed Susannah lay back against her cushions again. “Well, Nicholas never took any resentment out on Stephen or me,” she said. “And we were the children of that marriage! Why blame Cormac? It certainly wasn’t his doing that Mother chose to marry his father. It probably changed his life far more than Nicholas’, when you stop and think about it.”

From the mutinous expression on her face, Rutledge could tell that Rachel strongly disagreed. But remembering Susannah’s health, she held back the defense that seemed to be burning on the tip of her tongue.

“But I was fond of Nicholas myself,” Susannah went on complacently. “He had more patience with us than most boys his age. When Father died, I remember sitting on his knee, terribly frightened about putting Father into that huge, cold vault in the church. I kept telling everyone that he’d want to be out in the light, where he could hear the horses running and the sea coming in and children playing. And Nicholas said, That’s why he died out on the strand, so he could be free. What we’re putting in the vault tomorrow is only a token, a place where Rosamund can put flowers.’ Then he took us on a pirate’s hunt, looking for Father’s gold crucifix to put in the coffin. But we never found it. I don’t know whether he did later, or not.”

Hamish was already pointing out that it meant nothing, but Rutledge felt the coldness in his bones.