Bluegate Fields - Anne Perry [12]
“No, of course not!” Gillivray’s color flooded back. “It is an unspeakable tragedy, and a crime of the worst kind. But I honestly do not believe there is the slightest chance whatever that we shall discover who is responsible, and therefore it is better we should spare the feelings of the family as much as we can. That is all I meant! As Sir Anstey said, he is not going to prosecute whoever—well—that’s a different matter. And one that we have no call in!” He bent and brushed the mud off his trousers irritably.
Pitt ignored him.
By the end of the day, they had separately called on the few names on Jerome’s list. None had admitted expecting or seeing Arthur Waybourne that evening, or having had any idea as to his plans. On returning to the police station a little after five o’clock, Pitt found a message awaiting him that Athelstan wished to see him.
“Yes, sir?” he inquired, closing the heavy, polished door behind him. Athelstan was sitting behind his desk, with a fine leather set of inkwells, powder, knife, and seals beside his right hand.
“This Waybourne business.” Athelstan looked up. A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. “Well, sit down, man! Don’t stand there flapping about like a scarecrow.” He surveyed Pitt with distaste. “Can’t you do something about that coat? I suppose you can’t afford a tailor, but for heaven’s sake get your wife to press it. You are married, aren’t you?”
He knew perfectly well that Pitt was married. Indeed, he was aware that Pitt’s wife was of rather better family than Athelstan himself, but it was something he chose to forget whenever possible.
“Yes, sir,” Pitt said patiently. Not even the Prince of Wale’s tailor could have made Pitt look tidy. There was a natural awkwardness about him. He moved without the languor of a gentleman; he was far too enthusiastic.
“Well, sit down!” Athelstan snapped. He disliked having to look up, especially at someone who was taller than he was, even when standing. “Have you discovered anything?”
Pitt sat obediently, crossing his legs.
“No, sir, not yet.”
Athelstan eyed him with disfavor.
“Never imagined you would. Most unsavory affair, but a sign of the times. City’s coming to a sad state when gentlemen’s sons can’t take a walk in the evening without being set upon by thugs.”
“Not thugs, sir,” Pitt said precisely. “Thugs strangle from behind, with scarves. This boy was—”
“Don’t be a fool!” Athelstan said furiously. “I am not talking of the religious nature of the assailants! I am talking of the moral decline of the city and the fact that we have been unable to do anything about it. I feel badly. It is the job of the police to protect people like the Waybournes—and everyone else, of course.” He slapped his hand on the burgundy leather surface of his desk. “But if we cannot discover even the area in which the crime was committed, I don’t see what we can do, except save the family a great deal of public notice which can only make their bereavement the harder to bear.”
Pitt knew immediately that Gillivray had already reported to Athelstan. He felt his body tighten with anger, the muscles cord across his back.
“Syphilis may be contracted in one night, sir,” he said distinctly, sounding each word with the diction he had learned with the son of the estate on which he had grown up. “But the symptoms do not appear instantly, like a bruise. Arthur Waybourne was used by someone long before he was killed.”
The skin on Athelstan’s face was beaded with sweat; his mustache hid his lip, but his brow gleamed wet in the gaslight. He did not look at Pitt. There were several moments of silence while he struggled with himself.
“Indeed,” he said at last. “There is much that is ugly, very ugly. But what gentlemen, and the sons of gentlemen, do in their bedrooms is fortunately beyond the scope of the police—unless, of course, they request our intervention. Sir Anstey has not. I deplore it as much as you do.” His eyes flickered up and met Pitt’s with a flash of genuine communication, then slid away again. “It is abominable, repugnant to every decent human