Bethlehem Road - Anne Perry [135]
He swallowed hard, composing himself with difficulty, banishing the horror he had caught such a dreadful sight of for an instant, forcing the words out.
“I misjudged her. She was more vulnerable to their blandishments than I realized, and in poor health, which affected her mind. I appreciate now that I should have called medical help for her long before I did. I imagined she was being willful, whereas she was in truth suffering delusions from fever, and the effects of designing people. I regret my actions; you do not know how I regretted them, how I have done over the years.”
Charlotte felt her mastery was slipping away, somehow he was twisting what she had said. “But you had no right to decide what she should believe!” she cried out. “No one has the right to choose for someone else! How dare you? How dare you presume to judge another person as to what they should want? It is not protection, it is ... it is ...” She searched for the word. “It is dominion! And it is wrong!”
“It is the duty of the strong and the able to protect the weak, madame, and especially those born or given into their charge. And you will find that society will thank you little for seeking to make a profit out of my family’s misfortune.”
“And what about Elsie Draper? What about her life? You shut her away in a madhouse!”
A very slight smile touched the corners of his mouth.
“And do you contend, madame, that she was not mad?”
“Not when you put her away, no!” Charlotte was losing, and she saw it in his face, heard it in the stronger, calmer tone in his voice.
“You had better leave, madame. There is nothing for you here. If you write your book, and you mention the name of anyone in my family, I shall sue you for libel, and society will reject you for the cheap adventuress you are. Good day. My footman will show you out.” And he rang the bell.
Five minutes later Charlotte was sitting in the carriage as the horses plodded slowly through the freezing fog down Bethlehem Road and back towards the Westminster Bridge and the darkness of the river. She had failed. She had not done more than shake his complacency for a few moments—just that brief space when he had glimpsed the idea that he had been guilty of a monstrous oppression. Then self-justification had swept back and everything was as before; he was powerful, complacent, secure. To think that she had even been frightened! How needless—he had dismissed her without any emotion but disgust. He had not even asked for the letters!
They were coming down onto the bridge now; she heard the difference in the echo of the horses’ hooves. The fog was very dense and the ice slippery on the stones. She felt the occasional jolt as an animal lost and regained its footing.
What were they stopping for?
There was a rap on the carriage door and Forbes opened it.
“Ma’am, there is a gentleman wishes to speak to you.”
“A gentleman?”
“Yes. He said it was confidential, if you would not mind stepping out for a moment; it would be more decorous than his climbing in.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I don’t recognize him, and to tell the truth, I wouldn’t recognize my own brother on a night like this. But I shall be right here, ma’am, only a few yards from you. He said to tell you it was about passing a new law guaranteeing freedom of conscience.”
Freedom of conscience? Could something she had said have touched Garnet Royce after all?
She stepped out, taking Forbes’s hand and steadying herself on the ice-glazed pavement. She saw the figure dimly, only a few feet away. It was Garnet Royce, muffled up against the bitter night. He must have relented as soon as she had left, and followed her carriage; they had traveled at no more than walking pace.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I realize I misjudged you. Your motives were not selfish, as I presumed. If I might have a moment of your time ... ?” He took a step