Ashworth Hall - Anne Perry [41]
“Or Emily,” Charlotte added, “for making a bad party into a complete nightmare.” She put the scarf down and turned out the gas lamp above the dressing table, leaving no light in the room except the glow from the last embers of the fire. She climbed into bed beside him and snuggled down.
For a second morning in a row they were woken by a shrill, tearing screaming.
Pitt swore and stirred, burying his head in the pillow.
The scream came again, high and terrified.
Reluctantly Pitt got out of bed and stumbled across the floor, grasping for his robe. He opened the door and went out onto the landing. Twenty feet away the handsome maid, Doll, was standing in the open doorway of the Grevilles’ bathroom, her face ashen, her hands to her throat as if she could barely breathe.
Pitt strode over, put both hands on her shoulders to move her aside, and looked in.
Ainsley Greville lay in the bath, naked, his chest, shoulders and face under the water. There could be no question whatever that he was dead.
4
PITT SWUNG AROUND, barring the way with his body. “Take her and look after her,” he said to Charlotte, who was now on the landing. It was obvious he was referring to Doll, who still stood swaying a little, gasping for breath. He met Charlotte’s eyes. “Greville is dead.”
She hesitated only a moment, her face tightening, then she walked forward and took the unresisting Doll and, putting her arm around her, guided her away.
There were now several other people gathered, newly awoken, anxious, but still with yesterday’s embarrassment high in their minds.
“What is it now?” Padraig Doyle moved past Piers, who was standing, startled and disheveled, next to the banister. A step behind him, Eudora looked worried but not frightened.
Fergal Moynihan was coming out of his room, opposite Pitt’s, blinking, his hair poking in spikes as if he were newly awakened. He left the door wide open, and Iona was plainly not present.
“What is it?” Padraig repeated, looking from Pitt to Charlotte and back again.
“I am afraid there has been an accident,” Pitt said quietly. There was no point in supposing it was anything else yet. “There is nothing to be done to help at the moment.”
“You mean … it is fatal?” Padraig looked only momentarily startled. He was not a man to panic or lose control of his composure. “Ainsley?”
“I am afraid so.” As he spoke, Pitt was reaching for the bathroom door to close it.
“I see.” Padraig turned to Eudora, a great gentleness in him. He put his arm around her shoulders, and the very tenderness of it alarmed her.
“What is it?” she demanded. “Padraig?” She pulled away, turning to face him.
“Ainsley,” he answered, looking at her very directly. “There’s nothing you can do. Come away. I’ll take you back to your room and sit with you.”
“Ainsley?” For a moment it was as if she had not understood.
“Yes. He’s dead, sweetheart. You must be strong.”
Carson O’Day was coming along the passage from behind them, Iona from the other direction, wearing a beautiful midnight-blue robe. It billowed out behind her with her movement, like clouds of night.
Fergal looked startled, perhaps by Padraig’s choice of words.
“Mr. Doyle …” Pitt began.
Padraig misunderstood him. “She’s my sister,” he explained.
“I was going to ask you to help Mrs. Greville to her room”—Pitt shook his head a little—“and ask Mrs. Radley’s maid to go to her. I don’t think her own maid is in any state to help. And would you ask someone, Tellman, to come up here, please?” He looked around. Emily had arrived, her face harassed as she envisioned some new social breach. Jack was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had risen early again.
Emily looked at Pitt, and knew that this time it was no simple love affair. She took a deep breath and deliberately steadied herself.
“I’m sorry, but Ainsley Greville is