Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [83]
The carriage door slammed shut again, then opened. The guard stood there, wide-eyed, terrified, the lantern in his hand, the carriage lights yellow behind him.
‘Ye’re a lunatic!’ he cried, stuttering over his words.
‘He was trying to kill me!’ Pitt protested, taking a step forward.
The guard jerked the lantern up as if it were some kind of shield. ‘Don’t you touch me!’ His voice was shrill with terror. ‘I got ’alf a dozen good men ’ere ’oo’ll tie yer down, so I ’ave. Ye’re a bleedin’ madman. Yer killed poor Mr Summers as well, ’oo only came out there ter’elp the other gent.’
‘I didn’t . . .’ Pitt began, but he didn’t get to finish the sentence. Two burly men were crowding behind the guard, one of them with a walking stick, the other with a sharp-ended umbrella, both held up as weapons.
‘We’re gonna put yer in my van,’ the guard went on. ‘An’ if we ’ave ter knock yer senseless ter do it. Just gimme the excuse, is all I ask. I liked Mr Summers. ’E were a good man, an’ all.’
Pitt had no wish to be beaten into submission. Dazed, aching and appalled at what he had done, he went without resisting.
Chapter Seven
‘You can’t come,’ Charlotte said vehemently. It was early afternoon and she was standing in the dining room of Mrs Hogan’s lodging house, dressed in her best spring costume, wearing the magnificent striped blouse. She was rather uncomfortably aware of how well it suited her. With a plain, dark skirt the effect was dramatic, to say the very least. ‘Someone is bound to know you,’ she added, forcing her attention to the matter in hand.
Narraway had obviously taken care to prepare himself for the occasion also. His shirt was immaculate, his cravat perfectly tied, his thick hair exactly in place.
‘I have to,’ he replied. ‘I must see Talulla Lawless. I can only see her in a public place, or she will accuse me of assaulting her. She has already tried it once, and warned me she will do it again if I attempt to see her alone. I know she is going to be there this afternoon. It’s a recital. Most people will be watching the musicians.’
‘It will only need one person to recognise you and they will tell the others,’ Charlotte pointed out. ‘Then what will I be able to do of any value? They’ll know the reason behind everything I say.’
‘I will not go with you. The charade of your being my sister is for Mrs Hogan.’ He smiled bleakly. ‘You will go to the recital with Fiachra McDaid. He’s coming to meet you here . . .’ He glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf, ‘. . . in ten minutes or so. I’ll go alone. I have to, Charlotte. I think Talulla is crucial to this. Too many of my investigations keep coming back to her. She is the one thread that connects everyone involved.’
‘Can’t I do it?’ she persisted.
He smiled briefly. ‘Not this time, my dear.’
She did not argue any further, even though she was sure he was not telling her the entire truth. But it was foolish to come here at all if they were unprepared to take any risks. She smiled back at him, just in a very tiny gesture, and gave a little nod. ‘Then be careful.’
His eyes softened. He seemed to be about to say something half-mocking, but there was a sharp tap on the door. Mrs Hogan came in, her hair as usual falling out of its pins, her white apron crisply starched.
‘Mr McDaid is here for you, Mrs Pitt.’ It was impossible to tell from her expression what her thoughts were, except that she was having an effort keeping them under control.
‘Thank you, Mrs Hogan,’ Charlotte said politely. ‘I shall be there immediately.’ She met Narraway’s eyes. ‘Please be careful,’ she said again. Then, before he could respond, she picked up her skirt perhaps half an inch, and swept out of the door, which Mrs Hogan was holding open for her.
Fiachra McDaid was standing in the hall next to the long clock, which read five minutes ahead of the one in the dining room. He was smartly dressed, but he could not manage the same casual elegance as Narraway.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Pitt,’ he said pleasantly.