Ashworth Hall - Anne Perry [61]
“I shall be discreet, Miss Baring,” he assured her. “I imagine he was privy to much information that was sensitive, but I doubt it will be committed to paper in his home. But as has been pointed out, the tragedy was not an isolated incident. There was an attempt to kill Mr. Greville a few weeks ago—”
She turned to Eudora. “You must have been so afraid for him. And then to have this happen. I imagine it was just … the sort of threats people make when they want something, empty, bullying.” She looked back at Pitt. “Of course, you must find out who sent them. They may very well be behind this, since they have actually attempted before.” She looked at Piers. “What happened?”
“Someone tried to drive him off the road. I wasn’t there, I was up at Cambridge. Mama was in London.” He put his arm around her gently, his eyes on her face. “Will you be all right here if I go with Mr. Pitt?”
She smiled back at him. “Yes, of course I will. And I will look after your mother. I think with the other tensions there are, poor Mrs. Radley could do with all the assistance any of us can offer.” A ghost of amusement, and perhaps pity, crossed her eyes and vanished. “I did hear rumors of what the trouble is between the Moynihans and the McGinleys, but I shall pretend I didn’t. I think it will be the only way to get through the day, which threatens to feel like a week.”
“Surely they will forget all that now?” Piers looked startled. “The future of Ireland may be altered here if Mr. Radley can keep the conference going. After all that has happened, how can anyone care about something so—”
She smiled at him, touching his cheek with her finger. “My dear, we are quite capable of worrying about our own personal grievances and private habits while the whole world is collapsing around us. Perhaps it is easier to think on that scale. I don’t doubt the Last Trump will find some of us bickering about the price of a piece of ribbon, or who forgot to pinch out the candle. The end of the world would seem too much to grasp in the mind.” She glanced at Pitt. “Don’t worry about us, Mr. Pitt, we shall manage the day.”
He found himself liking Justine far more than he had expected to. She was anything but ordinary. He wondered what she saw in Piers that so attracted her. He seemed so young compared with her mature humor and balance. But then he was judging on the slightest acquaintance, and it was unfair. He knew very little about any of them, beyond the superficial.
He thanked Eudora and took his leave, arranging to meet Piers in the stables in fifteen minutes.
It was cold but not unpleasant as they set out on two excellent horses, traveling first across the parkland at a brisk canter, then turning along the edge of plowed fields and towards a lane which wound through a patch of woodland. It had been years since Pitt had ridden. One does not forget the feel of the animal. The creak of leather, the smell, the rhythmic movement were all familiar, but he knew he would be painfully stiff the next day. He was using muscles unstretched in a decade. He could imagine Tellman’s comments, and see the discreet smile on Jack’s face.
They could not converse while they were moving swiftly, but when they were obliged to slow to a walk between the trees it came quite naturally. Piers rode well, with the grace of a man who is both used to the saddle and fond of his animals.
“Will you look for a city practice?” Pitt asked, as much for something uncontentious to say as because he was interested.
“Oh no,” Piers replied quickly, lifting his head to look at the bare branches above. “I really