Ashworth Hall - Anne Perry [56]
Was Jack trying to excel in political life to match the Ashworth family?
And did he feel he had been driven to take on more than he was capable of fulfilling?
And did he really think she also doubted him?
She looked at him, his handsome face which had earned him his place in society, was now grave, his wide eyes fixed on hers.
He did think she doubted him!
“I mean it’s too dangerous!” she said hoarsely. “You must call Cornwallis back and tell him you can’t do it … until Thomas has found out who murdered Greville. They can’t expect you just to pick up where he left it the night he was killed.” She moved towards him. “Jack, don’t they understand what happened here? These people are murderers—or at least one of them is.” She put her hands up to his shoulders.
He took her by the wrists and put her arms down again, still keeping hold of her.
“I know that very well, Emily. I knew it when I accepted. One does not refuse a job because it may be dangerous. What do you think would happen to our country if a general was killed in battle and the next officer in turn refused to take command?”
“You are not in the army!”
“Yes, I am—”
“You’re not! Jack …” She stopped.
“Emily, don’t argue with me,” he said with a firmness she had never heard in his voice before. She knew she could not persuade him, and it frightened her, because she admired him more than she wished to. A certain element of control had slipped away from her. Her emotions were racing. There was a shivering of real fear inside her, and it was a terrible feeling. There was nothing exciting about it at all, just a sickness.
“Thank you,” he said gently. “You will have a great deal to do. This is about the worst house party I expect you will ever attend, let alone have to host. I shall not be able to help you. You will have to rely on Charlotte. I’m sorry.”
She forced herself to smile. She felt guilty. She had not known his courage, and she had thought him unequal to the task. Worse than that, she had allowed him to see it.
“Of course,” she said with far more confidence than she felt. “If you can take over the leadership of the conference, the least I can do is see that the party is … bearable. It can hardly be fun, but we can at least avoid any further social disasters.”
He smiled back at her with a flash of real humor. “With Iona McGinley in Moynihan’s bed, and Greville dead in his bath, unless the cook gives notice, I think we’ve achieved a full house! Unless of course someone decides to cheat at cards.”
“Don’t,” she said hoarsely. “Jack, don’t even whisper it!”
But her brave face did not last far beyond dinner, which she managed with supreme skill. Eudora took it in her room, but everyone else was present, and all behaved with dignity and passably civil conversation. It was afterwards, when she spoke to Pitt in the library, that she lost her composure and all her fear spilled through.
“What have you found out?” she asked sharply.
Pitt looked exhausted and deeply unhappy. His tie was coming undone, his jacket pockets were stuffed with bits of paper and his hair looked as if he had run his fingers through it a dozen times.
“It seems to have been Padraig Doyle, Fergal Moynihan, or one of the women,” he said wearily. “Or his son.”
“Doyle is his brother-in-law!” she exclaimed with disgust. “And it wouldn’t be his son, for heaven’s sake. It’s a political murder, Thomas. It must be Moynihan. Why not McGinley or O’Day?”
“Because they were seen elsewhere at the time.”
“Then it is Moynihan. He’s already been caught in bed with McGinley’s wife. What makes you think he wouldn’t stoop to murder? Arrest him! Then at least Jack will be safe.”
“I can’t arrest him, Emily.