Angels in the Gloom_ A Novel - Anne Perry [101]
The Peacemaker saw it, and understood exactly what it was. “Give us a list of your requirements,” he said calmly. “I’ll consider them.” He made a mental decision to get rid of Hannassey as soon as the opportunity offered itself. He had already exceeded his usefulness. If things worked out as he intended in Cambridgeshire, that opportunity would come very soon.
He looked up at Hannassey and smiled.
CHAPTER
* * *
ELEVEN
Joseph needed far more to take to Perth than vague ideasabout Blaine’s death and the terrible fear for Shanley Corcoran corroding inside him. It was now inescapable that there was a German sympathizer within the Establishment. No one had broken in to smash the prototype; Perth had proved that beyond doubt. Whatever Theo Blaine’s romantic affairs had been, it was now ridiculous to suppose they were the cause of his death, or that Lizzie was involved.
It was for that reason that Joseph felt it was acceptable to ask her to drive him to meet with Francis Iliffe in the evening after his conversation with Perth in the orchard.
It was dusk as they left the village street in St. Giles and turned onto the road toward Haslingfield. She was concentrating on the twists, verges now almost hidden by the tall grass and the bursting leaf of hedgerows, here and there an early may blossom blooming white. And there was always the possibility of coming on a farm implement in the roadway, or horses, sometimes even a herd of cows.
“Do you know Francis?” Lizzie asked, slowing down for a curve.
“No.” That was the part that Joseph was going to find most difficult. He was intruding into the home of a man he had not even met, with the intention of asking him impertinent questions, and even implying that he might be guilty of murder. He smiled ruefully, aware of his own absurdity. “I was hoping you would introduce me. I apologize if I am placing you in an embarrassing position.” However, he did not offer her the chance of retreating.
She glanced sideways at him, then back at the road. “You’re really worried about Mr. Corcoran, aren’t you?” she said quietly. There was sympathy in her voice, a sudden gentleness. Her own pain was still raw and full of surprise.
“Yes,” he admitted. “Whoever it is has already killed once, and smashed the machine.”
She winced.
“I’m sorry.” He was callous to have mentioned it to her so clumsily. He realized that he was requiring her to take him to see the man who might have murdered her husband, with as little thought for her feelings as if she had been a taxi driver. He blushed with shame for himself. “Mrs. Blaine, I really am sorry! I’ve behaved with terrible insensitivity. I was so afraid for Shanley I forgot your feelings altogether. I . . .”
“It’s all right. I know what you’re thinking. Truly. You can’t bring Theo back, and you’re trying to save a man who can finish his work and create something to win the war, and—far more important to you—a man you love as a friend and something like a father. I understand.”
He was embarrassed for her gentleness, and his own stupidity. “You are very forgiving,” he said sincerely.
She gave a little laugh, sad and self-deprecatory. “Not usually. It’s something I need to learn. I didn’t forgive Theo, and now it’s too late. I expected him to be clever in everything, not just some things, and people aren’t like that. Just because he could invent new and extraordinary machines