Bedford Square - Anne Perry [125]
Theodosia came down a little after ten. She looked exhausted and wretched, dressed entirely in black, but her head was high and she wore an expression of resolution.
“There is a great deal I need to do,” she said even before Vespasia had the opportunity to ask her how she was, although it would have been a pointless question. She would probably never in her life suffer more than she was doing this morning. “And you are the only one I can ask to help me,” she finished.
“Leo must have had a man of affairs,” Vespasia replied, regarding Theodosia gravely. “There is very little you’re required to do yourself. Even that, I can do for you, if you wish.”
Theodosia’s eyebrows rose. “I am not referring to that sort of thing, Aunt Vespasia. I am quite sure Mr. Astell can do all of that. Although I should welcome your advice as to what you think would be suitable.” She frowned very slightly, concentrating. “I am quite certain Leo did not take his own life. No one could drive him to that, no matter what he thought or feared. I am even more certain he was not behind the blackmail.”
She stood with her back to the room, her face towards the garden but blind to its flowers and dappled light. “I do not delude myself I know everything about him,” she said slowly. “One never does … nor should one. It would be intrusive, and more dangerous than that, it would be boring. But I really do believe I knew Leo too well for him to have deceived me either to his elation when the plan seemed to have been succeeding or his despair when he would have felt such imminent failure as to have driven him to this.”
Vespasia was uncertain what to say. She had often imagined she knew people better than events had proved. But Theodosia had spoken of emotions, not morality, and that was a matter of observation. It was less easy to dismiss.
“There is no need to humor me,” Theodosia said quietly, still facing the window. “I realize how I sound. What woman could admit to such a thing of her husband without struggling against it? But I intend to do a great deal more than wring my hands in protest.”
“It will not be easy,” Vespasia pointed out tentatively. “I am afraid you must be prepared for a great deal of opposition ….”
“Of course.” Theodosia did not move. “If Leo did not do this, then someone else did. They are hardly going to welcome my disturbing what they wish to appear a very tidy end to the affair.” She turned at last. “Will you help me, Aunt Vespasia?”
She looked at Theodosia’s haggard face, her stiff shoulders and the desperation in her eyes. It might be hopeless. It might bring more grief upon them than there was already. But how could she refuse? It would not prevent Theodosia; it would only leave her more isolated to do it.
“Are you sure you wish to?” she asked gently. “What we discover may not all be what you would like, my dear. Sometimes one is better knowing less of the truth, rather than more. And you will assuredly make enemies.”
“Of course.” Theodosia remained standing. “Do you imagine it will be much worse for me than it will be anyway when this becomes known? Mr. Gordon-Cumming will not be the only person who will find it unbearable to remain in London or the Home Counties. The blackmailer has taken so much from me he has left me very little still to lose now. I do not need you to promise me fairy-tale endings, Aunt Vespasia. I know there are none. I only wish you to lend me your intelligence and your support. As I daresay you know, I shall persist whether you give it me or not, but I shall have much less chance of success.”
Vespasia smiled dryly; a small, sad gesture. “Put like that, you leave me little choice, unless I wish you to believe I preferred you to fail. Nothing would please me better than to discover Leo was innocent, both of the blackmail and of taking his life. We must consider carefully how to proceed, and of course where to begin.”
Theodosia moved back across the room and sat down heavily, looking suddenly a trifle lost.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But who