Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [163]
She steeled herself and took the irretrievable step.
“I would not expect you to deny it easily, Mr. Carswell,” she said with a tiny smile. “It is a miserable thing to have people believe, especially since it cannot but hurt your wife and your daughters, and ruin Miss Hilliard in society—which I know is not everything. The circle of people who have heard the rumor is small enough, and there may be other alliances open to her, in time …”
She took a deep breath and went on. “And ugly as it is, it is far better than the truth.” She saw him pale, but his expression barely changed and his eyes never left hers. She knew from the icy hardness in them that he was now quite certain in his mind that she had come to extort money. The contempt in him could almost be felt across the white-clothed table and the knives and forks.
He remained silent.
She was about to continue when the waiter brought them their meals and set them down.
Carswell thanked him grimly and dismissed him.
“I am sure you have some point, Mrs. Pitt. I would be obliged if you would reach it.”
A flicker of anger moved in her.
“I know that Fanny is your daughter, Mr. Carswell. I do not expect you to tell the world so; it would ruin your—your present wife and your other daughters, and Fanny herself would never wish that. Which indeed you know, since she left all that she hoped for and retreated to her home in disgrace, rather than explain herself and tell anyone, even Herbert Fitzherbert.”
He was staring at her without blinking. At the table behind him a young man was waving a legal document in the air, its red seal catching the light, its ribbons flapping. A waiter passed by with two tankards of ale on a tray.
“What is it you want of me, Mrs. Pitt?” Carswell asked her between clenched teeth.
“I want you to consider telling Herbert Fitzherbert the truth,” she replied. “He loves Fanny, and is prepared to marry her in spite of the scandal, but she will not trust even him and defend herself. I find it very hard that he will always think her a woman of no virtue, and in time it may come to sour his regard for her and cause suspicion between them. He has forfeited his opportunity to Parliament; his love for her is of greater value to him. But I fear she will not tell him the truth herself, in order to protect you, and she will not marry him as long as he does not know it but believes her your mistress.”
She picked up her glass by the stem, and then put it down again.
“Also her brother deserves to know. Why should she endure his contempt as well? She will become quite isolated and believed immoral by those she cares for most, and all to protect you and your new family. Is that something you can live with happily, Mr. Carswell?”
His face was pink, his eyes wretched. He fought off the most horrible decision a moment longer by facing the lesser.
“And what is your intent, Mrs. Pitt? Why do you concern yourself with this? You have known Fanny only a very short time. I find it hard to believe your emotion is so engaged.”
“I am aware of what you suppose, Mr. Carswell, and given your connection with Weems it is not unreasonable.” She saw his face blanch and a look of incredulity come over it. Then slowly realization came to him. “Pitt—Mrs. Pitt? You cannot be …”
All the world of social differences was there in his unspoken words: the gulf between Charlotte as Emily’s sister, receiving society, dancing, dining, visiting the opera; and as the wife of Pitt, a policeman calling at people’s houses to ask about the murder of a usurer in the back streets of Clerkenwell.
She swallowed back the sharp defense that came leaping to her tongue. With icy dignity, still less now would she permit him to think she would stoop to blackmail.
“I am,” she agreed. “And yes my emotion is engaged on Fanny’s behalf. It seems someone’s needs to be. Yours is not.”
He flushed hotly.
“That is unfair, Mrs. Pitt!