Bedford Square - Anne Perry [75]
Gordon-Cumming appealed to Butler to delay such an enquiry in order not to prejudice his own pending civil action for slander.
The Prince of Wales wound himself into a state of all but nervous exhaustion over the prospect of having to testify, but to no effect. The other witnesses, the Wilsons, the Lycett Greens and Levett, all refused to withdraw their charges of cheating.
Now the case was being heard before the Lord Chief Justice, Lord Coleridge, and a special jury. In the glorious sunshine of a hot, early July, the courtroom was packed, and the public hung on every word.
Pitt was interested in the case only for its reflection on the fragility of reputation, and how easily a man, any man, could be ruined by a suggestion, let alone a fact.
Lower down the page, another scandal caught his eye. It was a story printed beneath a photograph of Sir Guy Stanley, M.P., speaking with a very strikingly dressed woman named in the caption as Mrs. Robert Shaughnessy They had been caught in a moment’s close conversation. Mr. Shaughnessy was a young man with radical political ambitions, contrary to government policy. He had lately succeeded in a brilliant move towards his aims, greatly assisted by what looked like inside information. In the picture, he had his back turned to his wife and Sir Guy and was looking away.
The story below suggested that Sir Guy, a favored candidate for a ministerial position, had been far more intimate with Mrs. Shaughnessy than was consistent with morality or honor, and threaded through the ambiguous phrases was the implication that he had let slip government business in return for her favors. There was also a difference of some thirty years in their ages, which made it uglier and lent it a sordid and pathetic air.
If Sir Guy Stanley had been hoping for preferment, he would not now receive it. A blow like this to a man’s reputation, whether the suggestion was founded or not, would make him an impossible choice for the post in the government for which his name had been put forward.
Pitt sat at the breakfast table holding the newspaper in his hand, his toast and marmalade forgotten, his tea growing cold.
“What is it?” Charlotte asked anxiously.
“I’m not sure,” he said slowly. He read out the article about Guy Stanley, then lowered the paper and met her eyes. “Is it coincidence, or is this the first threat carried out as a warning to the others?” He wondered what could have precipitated it.
“Even if it isn’t,” she pointed out, “it will serve the same purpose.” She was pale faced as she put her cup down in its saucer. “As if the Tranby Croft business were not enough without this. It will reinforce the blackmailer’s message, whether this was his doing or not. Do you know anything about Guy Stanley?”
“No more than I’ve read here.”
“And this Mrs. Shaughnessy?”
“Nothing at all.” He took a deep breath and pushed away his plate. “I think I must go and see Sir Guy. I need to know if he had a letter. More than that, I need to know what he was asked to do … and had the courage to refuse.”
Charlotte remained silent. She sat with her body tense, her shoulders pulling at the rose-colored cotton of her dress, but there was nothing more to say.
He touched her lightly on the cheek as he passed, and went out to collect his boots and his hat.
The newspaper had given Guy Stanley’s address, and Pitt alighted from the hansom half a block away and walked briskly in the warm morning air up to the house and rang the doorbell.
It was answered by a footman who informed him that Sir Guy was not in and would not be receiving callers. He was about to close the door again, leaving Pitt on the step. Pitt produced his card and held it out.
“I am afraid it is police business about which I need to see your master and it cannot wait,” he said firmly.
The footman