Sound of Butterflies, The by Rachael King

stance.
    ‘Excuse me, sir.’
    Winterstone says nothing.
    Fale presses on. ‘Are you by any chance related to Mrs Sophie Edgar?’
    The man folds his newspaper slowly and deliberately. He places it neatly at the corner of the table, lining up all parallel and perpendicular lines. He removes his glasses.
    ‘She is my daughter,’ he says at last. ‘And you are?’
    Fale surprises himself by stuttering. ‘F-forgive me, sir. I couldn’t help overhear your name and make the connection. My name is Fale, Captain Samuel Fale. Mrs Edgar is an acquaintance of mine.’
    ‘Is she? Surely you mean her husband, Mr Edgar?’
    Fale takes a breath. He knows he could make a fool of himself and put Sophie at risk with whatever comes out of his mouth. He must act carefully, deliberately. And fast.
    ‘Yes, of course.’ He can’t remember Edgar’s first name. What is it? ‘He … he and I are old friends,’ he lies. He realises too late that he is digging a hole for himself, and possibly with both hands. ‘That is, we have known each other for some time.’ This is not completely untrue — Fale met Edgar’s father once, when — Thomas! Of course, it is Thomas — was just a lad. The boy accompanied Mr Edgar senior into town.
    ‘I see.’ The man’s face softens, and he does not go back to his newspaper. ‘Would you care to join me, as we are both drinking alone?’
    ‘Well, I am expecting someone …’
    ‘I see,’ Winterstone says again.
    Fale must remember that this man is not his sturdy colonel. He has embarrassed him, and he can see the older man’s hands shake slightly as he goes to take up his glasses and newspaper again. He must make amends. ‘But my companion won’t be here for another twenty minutes. I would be delighted, sir.’
    A slow smile spreads over the older man’s face.
    Fale starts to rise, but Winterstone spots his walking stick and his stiff leg and bids him sit, instead picking up his drink and moving to join him.
    It turns out that Winterstone dines at the Star and Garter whenever he is in Richmond on business as a barrister. The two men discuss the history of the hotel; Winterstone visited it as a young man, when it was another building altogether, before it burned down in 1870. He recalls his excitement when he first visited the hotel without his parents. Captain Fale attended an engagement for the Indian officers who had arrived for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. He doesn’t tell Winterstone, but he made up a few stories that night — made out that he had been fighting in the Boer War when he damaged his leg. Nobody had any reason to disbelieve him.
    ‘You must see something of your daughter, sir,’ says Fale, ‘if you come to Richmond so frequently.’
    Winterstone looks away, and his jaw tightens.
    ‘Not very much,’ he says. ‘I am usually too busy.’
    ‘Ah,’ says Fale. ‘That is a shame.’
    The man smiles a watery smile. ‘I did see her today, however. I had tea with her this morning.’
    Fale nods. ‘It’s a terrible shame, isn’t it? About her husband, I mean.’
    Winterstone’s head snaps up. ‘Whatever do you mean, sir?’
    Fale pauses to read the man’s voice. He detects an icy tone creeping into it. He must proceed with caution. ‘Did you not see Mr Edgar today?’
    ‘He has been called to London on urgent business. I had hoped to meet with him and discuss his journey to the Amazon. It was all planned, but he had to leave at the last minute. He will be away for some days.’
    Fale realises he has made a mistake in mentioning this, but then a myriad possibilities swim before his eyes. Mr Winterstone does not know about Edgar’s condition. Sophie has lied to him, surely. Or perhaps Edgar has recovered. Since his return, Fale has kept his distance, but Sophie confided in him only yesterday, when he had met her on the street. He could tell that she was putting on a brave face; she stood so tall and strong. Beautiful. He felt a tug in his breeches, but luckily it