Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [41]
‘I may be late back,’ Charlotte interrupted. ‘Please don’t wait up for me.’
‘No, ma’am,’ Minnie Maude said quickly. ‘But I’ll be happy to, if you wish?’
‘Thank you, but please make yourself comfortable,’ Charlotte told her. ‘Good night.’
She went straight out to the carriage, and for the next half-hour rode through the streets to Vespasia’s house in Gladstone Park – which was really not so much a park as a small square with flowering trees. She sat and tried to compose in her mind exactly how she would tell Vespasia what she meant to do.
At last Charlotte sat in Vespasia’s quiet sitting room. The colours were warm, muted to a familiar gentleness. The curtains were drawn across the window onto the garden and the fire burned in the hearth with a soft whickering of flames. She looked into Vespasia’s face, and it was not so easy to explain to her the wild decision to which Charlotte had already committed herself.
Vespasia had been considered by many to be the most beautiful woman of her generation, as well as the most outrageous in her wit and her political opinions – or maybe passions would be a more fitting word. Time had marked her features lightly and if anything, liberated her temperament even more. She was secure enough in her financial means and her social pre-eminence not to have to care what other people thought of her, as long as she was certain in her own mind that a course of action was for the best. Criticism might hurt, but it was a long time since it had deterred her.
Now she sat stiff-backed – she had never lounged in her life – her silver hair coiffed to perfection. A high lace collar covered her throat and the lamplight gleaming on the three rows of pearls.
‘You had better begin at the beginning,’ she told Charlotte. ‘Supper will be another hour.’
At least Charlotte knew what the beginning was. ‘Earlier this week Mr Narraway came to see me at home, to tell me that Thomas had been in pursuit of a man who had committed a murder, almost in front of him. He and his junior had been obliged to follow this person to France, and had not had the opportunity to inform anyone of what they were doing. Mr Narraway knew that they were in France. They sent a telegram. He told me of it so that I would not worry when Thomas did not come home, or call me.’
Vespasia nodded. ‘It was courteous of him to come himself,’ she observed a trifle drily.
Charlotte caught the tone in her voice and her eyes widened.
‘He is fond of you, my dear,’ Vespasia responded. Her amusement was so slight it could barely be seen, and was gone again the second after. ‘What has this to do with the maid?’
Charlotte looked at the drawn curtains, the pale design of flowers on the carpet. ‘He came again yesterday evening,’ she said quietly, ‘and stayed for much longer.’
Vespasia’s voice changed almost imperceptibly. ‘Indeed?’
Charlotte raised her eyes to meet Vespasia’s. ‘There appears to have been a conspiracy within Special Branch to make it look as if he embezzled a good deal of money.’ She saw Vespasia’s look of disbelief. ‘They have dismissed him, right there on the spot.’
‘Oh dear,’ Vespasia said with infinite shades of meaning. ‘I see why you are distressed. This is very serious indeed. Victor may have his faults, but financial dishonesty is not one of them. Money does not interest him. He would not even be tempted to do such a thing.’
Charlotte did not find that comforting. What faults was Vespasia implying that Narraway did possess? It seemed she knew him better than Charlotte had appreciated, even though Vespasia had interested herself in many of Pitt’s cases, and therefore of Narraway’s.Then the moment after, studying Vespasia’s expression, Charlotte realised that Vespasia was deeply concerned