Bedford Square - Anne Perry [85]
“Of course,” she agreed, withdrawing her hand and standing up slowly. She would have liked to protect him from it, but there is no defense against failure except to keep trying, to face the enemy, open or secret. She smiled at him a trifle wanly. “Please always count on me to help in any way I am able.”
“I do,” he said softly. “Thank you.” He colored painfully and turned away, walking to the door into the hall and opening it for her.
She went past him and nodded to the waiting footman.
Pitt stood in Vespasia’s pale, calm sitting room staring at the sunlit garden beyond the windows, waiting for her to come downstairs. It was too early in the afternoon for a social call, especially on someone of her age, but his business was urgent, and he had not wished to arrive and find she had gone out to pay calls herself, which could have easily happened if he had left his own visit until a more appropriate hour.
The white lilacs still perfumed the air, and the silence, away from the road, was almost palpable. It was a windless day; there was no rustle of leaves. Once a thrush sang for a moment, and then the sound disappeared again, lost in the heat.
He turned as he heard the door open.
“Good afternoon, Thomas.” Vespasia came in, leaning a little on her cane. She was dressed in ecru and ivory lace with a long rope of pearls catching the light almost to her waist. He found himself smiling in spite of the reason for his visit.
“Good afternoon, Aunt Vespasia,” he replied, savoring the fact that she permitted him to use that title. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but it is too important to me to risk missing you.”
She brushed the air delicately with one hand, dismissing the idea. “My calls can wait for another day. It was nothing of importance, merely a way to spend the afternoon and fulfill a certain duty. Tomorrow will do as well, or next week, for that matter.” She walked across the carpet and sat down in her favorite chair, facing the garden.
“You are very generous,” he replied.
She looked at him candidly. “Rubbish! I am bored to tears with idle conversation, and you know it, Thomas. If I hear one more silly woman make some remark about Annabelle Watson-Smith’s betrothal, I shall cause my own scandal with my reply. I was going to call upon Mrs. Purves. And how she has an unbroken lamp mantle in her house I cannot imagine. Her laugh would shatter crystal. You know me well enough not to try humoring me.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized.
“Good. And for heaven’s sake, sit down! I am getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.”
He sat obediently in the chair opposite her.
She regarded him steadily. “I assume you have come about this appalling business of Guy Stanley. Have you ascertained if he is another victim?” She shrugged very slightly, just the lifting of one shoulder. “Even if he is not, and this is simply a coincidental tragedy, the effect upon everyone else will be the same. I can imagine what Dunraithe White will feel. Thomas, this is really very serious.”
“I know it is.” It seemed strange to be speaking of such evil and deliberate pain in this beautiful room with its simplicity and its scent of flowers. “And you do not yet know the full extent of it. I went to see Sir Guy this morning, and it is uglier than I had supposed. He was indeed threatened in exactly the same manner as the others …”
“And he refused,” she finished for him, her face grim. “And this is the terrible revenge, and the warning to everyone else.”
“No … I wish it were.”
Her eyes widened. “I do not understand. Please be frank, Thomas. Whatever the truth is, I am not too fragile to hear it. I have lived a long time and seen more than I think you imagine.”
“I am not being evasive,” he said honestly. “I do wish the answer were as simple as Sir Guy’s having been asked for something and refusing it. He was not asked for anything at all, except a silver-plated flask, as a token, much as I assume Balantyne was asked for the snuffbox. Just something individual and marking the blackmailer’s power. Sir Guy gave him the flask, by messenger.