Bluegate Fields - Anne Perry [37]
“I’m sure you won’t press the matter any further than is absolutely necessary,” he went on. “But you must have enough to stand up in court—we all understand that. Titus—” He gestured toward his son with an embracing sweep. “Titus, answer Inspector Pitt’s questions quite frankly. Don’t hide anything. It is not a time for false modesty or any misplaced sense of loyalty. Nobody cares for a telltale, but there are times when a man is witness to a crime that cannot be permitted to continue, or to go unpunished. Then it is his duty to speak the truth, without fear or favor! Is that not so, Mr. Pitt?”
“Quite so,” Pitt agreed with less enthusiasm than he should have felt. The sentiment was perfect. Was it only Swynford’s aplomb, his supreme mastery of the situation, that made the words sound unnatural? He did not look like a man who either feared or favored anyone. Indeed, his money and his heritage had placed him in a situation where, with a little judgment, he could avoid the need for pleasing others. As long as he obeyed the usual social rules of his class, he could remain exceedingly comfortable.
Titus was waiting.
“You were occasionally tutored by Mr. Jerome?” Pitt rushed in, aware of the silence.
“Yes, sir,” Titus agreed. “Both Fanny and I were. Fanny’s rather clever at Latin, although I can’t see what good it will do her.”
“And what will you do with it?” Pitt inquired.
Titus’s face split with a broad grin.
“I say, you’re rather odd, aren’t you? Nothing at all, of course! But we aren’t allowed to admit that. It’s supposed to be fearfully good discipline—at least that’s what Mr. Jerome said. I think that’s the only reason he put up with Fanny, because she was better at it than any of the rest of us. It would make you sick, wouldn’t it? I mean, girls being better at class, especially a thing like Latin? Mr. Jerome says that Latin is fearfully logical, and girls aren’t supposed to have any logic.”
“Quite sick,” Pitt agreed, keeping a sober face with difficulty. “I gather Mr. Jerome was not very keen on teaching Fanny?”
“Not terribly. He preferred us boys.” His eyes darkened suddenly, and his skin flushed red under his freckles. “That’s what you’re here about, isn’t it? What happened to Arthur, and the fact that Mr. Jerome kept touching us?”
There was no point in denying it; apparently, Swynford had already been very frank.
“Yes. Did Mr. Jerome touch you?”
Titus pulled a face to express a succession of feelings.
“Yes.” He shrugged. “But I never thought about it till Godfrey explained to me what it meant. If I’d known, sir, that it was going to end up with poor Arthur dead, I’d have said something sooner.” His face shadowed; his gray-green eyes were hot with guilt.
Pitt felt a surge of sympathy. Titus was quite intelligent enough to know that his silence could have cost a life.
“Of course.” Pitt put out his hand without thinking and clasped the boy’s arm. “Naturally you would—but there was no way you could know. Nobody wishes to think so ill of someone, unless there is no possible doubt. You cannot go around accusing somebody on a suspicion. Had you been wrong, you could have done Mr. Jerome a fatal injustice.”
“As it is, it’s Arthur who’s dead.” Titus was not so easily comforted. “If I’d said something, I might have saved him.”
Pitt felt compelled to be bolder and risk a deeper wound. “Did you know it was wrong?” he asked. He let go the boy’s arm and sat back again.
“No, sir!” Titus colored, the blood rushing up again under his skin. “To be honest, sir, I still don’t really know exactly. I don’t know whether I wish to know—it sounds rather dirty.”
“It is.” Pitt was soiled himself, by all his knowledge, in the face