Ashworth Hall - Anne Perry [60]
“I’m going to ride over to Oakfield House,” he said. “I don’t suppose there is anything in the letters Greville received, but there might be. I can’t afford to overlook the chance. I’ll be back as soon after dark as I can.”
She nodded, her eyes anxious. “Ride carefully,” she said, then smiled with her head a little on one side. “You’ll be stiff tomorrow.” She reached up and kissed him very gently. She seemed about to say something else, and then changed her mind. “How will you find your way there?” she said instead.
“I’ll ask Piers. I need to get Eudora’s permission anyway, and help.”
She nodded, and then walked with him as far as the hall.
Pitt found Eudora in the upstairs boudoir with both Piers and Justine. She was not wearing black. Quite naturally, she had not brought black with her. The nearest she could do was an autumnal brown, and in spite of the ravages of shock and grief, she still looked beautiful. Nothing could rob her of the richness of her hair or the symmetry of her bones.
Justine was an extraordinary contrast. She also had not brought black. As a young, unmarried woman she would not wear the shade to such an occasion unless she was at the end of a period of mourning. She had chosen a deep hunting green, and with her dense black hair it was almost a jewel color. She seemed to vibrate with life. Even in repose, as she was now, sitting beside Eudora, Pitt’s eyes were drawn to the intelligence in her face.
Piers stood behind the two women, his expression defensive, as if he would protect them from further hurt, were it possible.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Pitt said gravely to Eudora. “I am sorry to intrude on you again, but I need your permission to go to Oakfield House and look through Mr. Greville’s papers to see if I can find the malevolent letters that he received.”
Eudora looked almost relieved, as if she had expected him to say something worse.
“Of course. Yes, naturally, Mr. Pitt. Do you wish me to write something?”
“If you please. And I shall need any necessary keys.” He wondered what she had feared from him … some further disaster? Or that he suspected someone in particular? Surely, as far as she was concerned, the worst had already happened? “I would also appreciate directions as to the best way to get there,” he added. “I shall ride across country, or I shall take far too long. I want to be back before nightfall.”
Piers glanced at Justine, then at Pitt. “Would you like me to come with you?” he offered. “That would make it much easier. It would be very difficult indeed to describe to you the best way there, or even to draw a map.”
“Thank you,” Pitt accepted without hesitation. Apart from the convenience of it, he would welcome the opportunity to speak less formally to Piers, and perhaps learn more of Ainsley Greville. Without realizing it, Piers might know something of meaning.
“What can you learn from his papers?” Justine asked with obvious doubt. “Will they not be state papers anyway, and confidential?” She looked from Piers to Eudora, and back at Pitt. Her voice dropped. “He was killed in this house, and you said it was someone here. No one broke in. Shouldn’t we … shouldn’t we leave him his privacy?”
“It is only Mr. Pitt looking at them, my dear,” Eudora said, blinking a little, as if the concern puzzled her. “There won’t be any government papers that matter at Oakfield, they would all be at Whitehall. There may be the unpleasant letters which I know he received, and perhaps that will help us”—she took a deep breath—“to learn who is behind this.” She looked at Pitt, her eyes wide and dark. “There must be more than one person, mustn’t there? There was the incident with the carriage.” She was clenching her hands together.
“Of course,” Piers agreed. “We should look at those letters. And there may be other things that he didn’t mention ….”
Justine rose to her feet, taking Piers’s arm. “Your father is no longer here to protect himself, his privacy,” she said to