Bedford Square - Anne Perry [44]
Warburton and Pryce, I believe. I do not know the sum, perhaps you no longer even know it yourself. Perhaps you never did. Why count what you will never repay? Have you a sense of the absurd?
You must have, or you would not allow other men to trust you with their money. I would not!
Perhaps one day no one will.
And that was all. The meaning was perfectly plain, as it had been in Cornwallis’s letter. And like his, nothing was asked for, no precise, explicit threat was made; but the ugliness, the malice and the danger were extremely clear.
Pitt looked across at Tannifer, who was watching him almost unblinkingly.
“You see!” Tannifer’s voice was harsh, rising a little as if the veneer were thin. “He doesn’t ask for anything, but the threat is there.” He leaned forward across the desk, pulling his jacket out of shape. “It is completely untrue! I have never stolen a halfpenny in my life. I daresay with sufficient time and a careful enough audit of the bank’s books I could prove it.”
He stared at Pitt, searching his eyes, his face, as if desperate to see some hope or understanding.
“But the very fact that I would, or thought I had to, would make people wonder why,” he went on. “The suggestion is enough to ruin me … and the bank too, if they did not dismiss me. The only course possible would be to resign.” He waved his hands wide, jerkily. “And then there would be those who would take that as an admission of some kind of guilt. For God’s sake … what can I do?”
Pitt longed to be able to give him some answer that would offer the hope he longed for, but there was no such thing that would be remotely honest.
Should he tell him there had been others?
“Is anyone else aware of this?” he asked, indicating the letter.
“Only my wife,” Tannifer replied. “She saw my distress, and I had either to tell her the truth or invent some lie. I have always trusted her absolutely. I showed it to her.”
Pitt thought that a mistake. He feared her reaction might be to become so afraid that she would unintentionally betray her distress, or even feel the need to confide in someone further, perhaps her mother or a sister.
Tannifer must have read his feelings in his expression. He smiled.
“You have no need to fear, Mr. Pitt. My wife is a woman of remarkable loyalty and courage. I would rather trust her than anyone else I know.”
It was an unusual statement to make, and yet when he thought about it, Pitt would have said the same thing of Charlotte, and he blushed now with some guilt that he should have assumed less of Mrs. Tannifer without the slightest evidence.
“I apologize,” he said contritely. “I was only—”
“Of course,” Tannifer dismissed it, speaking across him, and for the first time allowing himself to smile. “In most circumstances you would be quite right. There is no need to feel the least discomfort.” He reached for the embroidered bell cord and pulled it.
Within moments a footman appeared.
“Ask Mrs. Tannifer to join us, will you,” Tannifer instructed, then as the man went out, he regarded Pitt seriously again. “What can you do to help us, Superintendant? How should I behave regarding this … threat?”
“To begin with, tell no one else,” Pitt replied, watching him gravely. “Do not even allow them to suspect. If anyone observes your anxiety or distress, think in advance of some other believable cause, and attribute it to that. Better not to say there is nothing wrong, when they may find that difficult to believe. Give no cause for speculation.”
“Of course. Of course.” Tannifer nodded.
There was a light rap on the door, and a moment later it opened and a woman came in who at first glance appeared quite ordinary. She was of average height, a trifle thin, her shoulders angular, her hips in her very lightly bustled gown too lean to be fashionable, or even very feminine. Her fair hair was naturally wavy and of a soft honey shade. Her features were not beautiful. Her nose lacked elegance, her eyes were wide, blue, and very direct. Her mouth was sensitive and curiously vulnerable.