Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [113]
The maid who answered the door let her in somewhat reluctantly.
‘I need to speak with Mr Tyrone,’ Charlotte said as soon as she was let into the large, high-ceilinged hall. ‘It is to do with the murder of Mr Mulhare, and now poor Mr O’Neil. It is most urgent.’
‘I’ll ask him, ma’am,’ the maid replied. ‘Who shall I say is calling?’
‘Charlotte Pitt.’ She hesitated only an instant. ‘Victor Narraway’s sister.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ She went across the hall and knocked on a door at the far side. It opened and she spoke for a moment, then returned to Charlotte. ‘If you’ll come with me, ma’am . . .’
Charlotte followed her, and the maid knocked on the same door again.
‘Come in.’ Tyrone’s voice was abrupt.
The maid opened it for Charlotte to go past her.Tyrone had obviously been working – there were papers spread across the surface of the large desk.
He stood impatiently, making no attempt to hide the fact that she had interrupted him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘I know it is late and I have come without invitation, but the matter is urgent. Tomorrow may be impossible for me to rescue what is left of the situation.’
He moved his weight from one foot to the other. ‘I am very sorry for you, Mrs Pitt, but I have no idea how I can help. Perhaps I should send the maid to see where my wife is.’ It was offered more as an excuse than a suggestion. ‘She is calling on a neighbour. She cannot be far.’
‘It is you I need to see,’ she told him. ‘And it might be more suitable for your reputation if the maid were to remain, although my enquiries are confidential.’
‘Then you should call at my place of business, within the usual hours,’ he pointed out.
She gave him a brief, formal smile. ‘Confidential to you, Mr Tyrone. That is why I came here.’
‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’
It was still only a deduction from Narraway’s drawings, but it was all she had left.
She plunged in. ‘The money for Mulhare that you transferred back into my brother’s account in London, which was responsible for Mulhare’s death, and my brother’s professional ruin, Mr Tyrone.’
He might have intended to deny it, but his face gave him away. The shock drained the blood from his skin, leaving him almost grey. He drew in his breath sharply, then changed his mind and said nothing. His eyes flickered; and for an instant Charlotte wondered if he were going to call for some kind of assistance and have her thrown out. Probably no servant would attack her, but if any other of the people involved in the plan were here, it would only increase her danger. McDaid had warned her.
Or did Tyrone even imagine she had had some hand in murdering Cormac O’Neil?
Now her own voice was shaking. ‘Mr Tyrone, too many people have been hurt already, and I’m sure you know poor Cormac was killed this morning. It is time for this to end. I would find it easy to believe that you had no idea what tragedies would follow the transfer of that money. Nor do I find it hard to sympathise with your hatred of those who occupy a country that is rightfully yours. But by using personal murder and betrayal you win nothing. You only bring more tragedy on those you involve. If you doubt me, look at the evidence. All the O’Neils are dead now. Even the loyalty that used to bind them is destroyed. Kate and Cormac have both been murdered, and by the very ones they loved.’
‘Your brother killed Cormac,’ he spoke at last.
‘No, he didn’t. Cormac was already dead by the time we got there.’
He was startled. ‘We? You went with him?’
‘Just after him, but only moments after . . .’
‘Then he could have killed him before you got there!’
‘No. I was on his heels. I would have heard the shot. I heard the dog begin to bark as Victor entered.’
He let out a long, slow sigh, as if at last