Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [152]
Charlotte looked at Emily’s steady blue eyes. If she were to persuade her, nothing less than the truth would serve.
“Only indirectly,” she replied, moving to one side as another footman passed by with a tray of glasses of chilled champagne. She lowered her voice still further; it would not do to be overheard. “In investigating some others who are being blackmailed, or might be—of course they deny it—he discovered that they all belong to one of the secret societies, and that the society demands of its members a loyalty ahead of their honor or conscience, even if that should be contrary to the law.”
“How can it be? What do you mean?” Emily was worried, but still failed to understand.
“Police,” Charlotte whispered fiercely. “Some of the members are police, and they have been corrupted, turned their backs on certain crimes …”
“But that is their own choice,” Emily argued, unconsciously shifting her position a little and putting her hand to the small of her back. “What would the society do if they refused? Blackmail them? In those circumstances one would be very glad to be thrown out. And they run the risk of being reported for attempts at corruption.”
“You have been standing long enough.” Charlotte noticed the gesture and understood it with sympathy. She could well remember the backache of pregnancy. “Come, sit down. There is a seat over there.” And without giving Emily time to reply, or to demur, she took her arm and walked over towards the wooden garden bench.
“I am afraid it is nothing so pleasant,” she answered, smiling with artificial sweetness at a fat lady whose name she should remember. “They do not forgive betrayal, and that is apparently how they see it.” They sat down and arranged their skirts. “And you seem to have forgotten that the membership is secret,” she went on. “So you do not know if perhaps your own superior is a member also. Or your banker, your physician, your lawyer, the next police officer you should meet. Certain members, and Thomas does not know who, exercise discipline, which can be extremely nasty. Incriminating evidence may be placed where the police will find it, and scandal and prosecution may result.”
Emily’s face darkened. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Thomas is very distressed by it.”
“But it may not be the same society,” Emily reasoned. “There are totally philanthropic organizations also, and from what Jack said, this one is extremely dedicated to good works. Their secrecy is a matter of not wishing to boast, and because certain kinds of justice can be effected only if their enemies are unaware of who fights their cause. Lord Anstiss is a member, because it was he who invited Jack to join.”
“Of course yours may not be the same society as Thomas is concerned with,” Charlotte agreed. “Is ‘may not’ good enough for you?”
“No…”
Before she could add anything further she was interrupted with great good humor by a lady with a magnolia-trimmed hat and a booming voice. She greeted Emily effusively as if they had been the closest of friends, was introduced to Charlotte with a beaming smile, then proceeded to monopolize the conversation with memories of a function she and Emily had recently attended.
Charlotte excused herself, catching Emily’s eye and nodding politely to the lady with the magnolias. Then she rose and walked along the path towards the gazebo and a magnificent bed of azaleas.
Her next encounter took her totally by surprise. She had seen Great-Aunt Vespasia in the distance and, anticipating the pleasure of speaking to her, had set out across the grass, lifting her skirts with one hand to avoid soiling them. She was within two or three yards of her when she saw that she would interrupt a meeting that was about to take place. Vespasia was very upright, her shoulders slender and stiff under exquisite pale pink silk and Chantilly lace, a magnificent triple rope of pearls hanging to her waist. She was wearing a hat almost as big as a cart wheel, lifted rakishly at one side, her silver hair coiled to perfection, luminous pearls dropping