Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [31]
‘Every time I think I know something about you, you surprise me,’ Narraway observed. ‘It is a good thing you are no longer a part of high society; they would never survive you. They are unaccustomed to such ruthless candour. They would have no idea what to do with you.’
‘You don’t need to be concerned for them. I know perfectly well how to lie with the best, if I have to,’ she retorted. ‘I am coming to Ireland with you. This needs to be done, and you cannot do it alone because too many people already know you. You said as much yourself. But I had better have some reasonable excuse to justify travelling with you, or we shall cause an even greater scandal. May I be your sister, for the occasion?’
‘We don’t look anything alike,’ he said with a slightly twisted smile.
‘Half-sister then, if anybody asks,’ she amended.
‘Of course you are right,’ he conceded. His voice was tired, the banter gone from it. He had been bruised to the heart and he knew it was ridiculous to deny the only help he had been offered. ‘But you will listen to me, and do as I tell you. I cannot afford to spend my time or energy looking after you or worrying about you. Is that understood, and agreed?’
‘Certainly. I want to succeed, not prove some kind of point.’
‘Then I shall be here at eight o’clock in the morning the day after tomorrow to take us to the train, and then the boat. Bring clothes suitable for walking, for discreet calling upon people in the city, and at least one gown for evening, should we go to the theatre. Dublin is famous for its theatres. No more than one case.’
‘I shall be waiting.’
He hesitated a moment, then let out his breath. ‘Thank you.’
After he had gone Charlotte went back to the front parlour and a moment later there was a knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ she said, expecting to thank Mrs Waterman for waiting up, tell her that nothing more was needed and she should go to bed.
Mrs Waterman came in and closed the door behind her. Her back was ramrod stiff, her face almost colourless and set in lines of rigid disapproval. One might imagine she had found a blocked drain.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Pitt,’ she said before Charlotte had had time to say anything. ‘I cannot remain here. My conscience would not allow it.’
Charlotte was stunned. ‘What are you talking about? You’ve done nothing wrong.’
Mrs Waterman sniffed. ‘Well, I dare say I have my faults. We all do. But I’ve always been respectable, Mrs Pitt. There wasn’t ever anyone who could say different.’
‘Nobody has.’ Charlotte was still mystified. ‘Nobody has even suggested such a thing.’
‘And I mean to keep it like that, if you understand me.’ Mrs Waterman stood, if possible, even straighter. ‘So I’ll be going in the morning. I’m sorry, about that. I dare say it’ll be difficult for you, which I regret. But I’ve got my name to think of.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Charlotte was growing annoyed. Mrs Waterman was not particularly agreeable, but they might learn to accept one another. She was certainly hard-working, diligent and totally reliable – at least she had been so far. With Pitt away for an indefinite period of time, and now this disastrous situation with Narraway, the last thing Charlotte needed was a domestic crisis. She had to go to Ireland. If Pitt were without a job they would lose the house and in quite a short time possibly even find themselves scraping for food. He might have to learn a new trade entirely, and that would be difficult for a man in his forties. Also, with all the effort he would put into it, it would still take time. It was barely beginning to sink into