Bluegate Fields - Anne Perry [59]
Gillivray confirmed Pitt’s evidence. Land then went on to question him about discovering Albie Frobisher, stopping short, of course, of Albie’s evidence, which would have been hearsay from Gillivray. And Albie would be called in due course to give it himself—far more tellingly.
Charlotte sat, cold; it was all so logical, it fitted so well. Thank heaven at least Eugenie was outside. As a witness, she was not permitted in until after she had testified.
Gillivray told how he had then pursued his investigations. He did not mention Pitt’s hand in them, or that he had been following Pitt’s orders, Pitt’s intuition of where he should look. He stood very straight. He told them how he found Abigail Winters and learned that she had a disease that on examination proved to be syphilis.
He left the stand pink-cheeked with pride, two hundred pairs of eyes watching his straight back and elegant shoulders as he returned to his seat.
Charlotte loathed him, because he was satisfied; to him this was an achievement, not a tragedy. He should have hurt! He should have felt pain and bewilderment welling up inside him.
The judge adjourned them for luncheon, and Charlotte huddled out with the crowd, hoping that Pitt would not see her. She wondered now if perhaps the vanity that had led her to wear the black hat was going to be her undoing.
Actually, it did not happen until she was returning—a little early, to be sure of claiming her seat again.
She saw Pitt as soon as she entered the hallway, and stopped. Then, realizing that stopping would only attract further attention, she tilted her chin higher and sailed down toward the courtroom door.
It was inevitable that Pitt should see her. She was dressed entirely in black, and the hat was quite marvelous. He would have looked had they been anywhere.
She considered inclining her head away and decided against it. It would be unnatural and arouse his suspicion.
Even so, it was a moment before he recognized her.
She felt his hand hard on her arm and was obliged to stop. She froze, then she turned to stare at him.
“Charlotte!” He was astonished, his face almost comical. “Charlotte? What on earth are you doing here? You can’t help!”
“I wish to be here,” she said reasonably, keeping her voice low. “Don’t make a scene, or everyone will look at us.”
“I don’t give a damn if everyone looks at us! Go home. This is no place for you!”
“Eugenie’s here—I think there is very good cause for me to remain. She may need a deal of comfort before this is through.”
He hesitated. She took his hand off her arm gently.
“Wouldn’t you want the to help her if I could?”
He could think of no answer and she knew it. She gave him a dazzling smile and swept into the courtroom.
The first witness in the afternoon was Anstey Waybourne. Suddenly, the room became aware of tragedy. There was no sound from the body of the court except a low mutter of sympathy. People nodded sagely, joining in a sort of mass awareness of death.
He had little of worth to add, just the identification of his son’s body, an account of the boy’s brief life and its day-to-day details, his studies with Jerome. He was asked by Giles how he had come to employ Jerome, about the excellent references and the fact that no previous employer had had any complaint about him. Jerome’s academic qualifications were unquestionable; his discipline was exacting but without brutality. Neither Arthur nor Godfrey had especially liked him, but neither, Waybourne had to admit, had they expressed any but the natural resentment of young people for one in constant authority over them.
Questioned about his own opinion of Jerome, he had little to contribute. The whole matter had shocked him deeply. He had had no conception of what was happening