Bluegate Fields - Anne Perry [66]
“Possibly—although what gesture or remark, I cannot think. I teach academic subjects, things of culture and of the brain. I am not accountable for the moral atmosphere in the house. What they may have learned in other areas was not my responsibility. Gentlemen of a certain class, at that age, have money and opportunity to discover the ways of the world for themselves. I should think a rather fevered adolescent imagination, coupled with a little looking through keyholes, has conjured such stories. And people occasionally indulge in lewd conversation without realizing how much youths hear—and understand. I can offer no better explanation. It is otherwise to the both incomprehensible and disgusting!”
Land took a deep breath. “So both boys are either lying or mistaken?”
“Since it is not the truth, that is the obvious conclusion,” Jerome replied.
Charlotte felt sympathy with him at last. He was being treated as if he were stupid, and although it was far from in his interest, it was understandable that he should want to retaliate. She would have stung under that patronage. But if only he would ease the sour look a little, or behave as if he sought mercy.
“Have you ever met a prostitute named Albie Frobisher?”
Jerome’s chin came up.
“I have never, to my knowledge, met a prostitute by any name at all.”
“Have you ever been to Bluegate Fields?”
“No, there is nothing in that area that I should wish to see, and fortunately I have no business that requires me to go there, and most certainly no pleasure!”
“Albert Frobisher swears that you were a customer of his. Can you think of any reason why he should do so, if it is not true?”
“My education has been classical, sir—I have no knowledge whatever as to the mind or motives of prostitutes, male or female.”
There was a titter of unsympathetic laughter around the court, but it died almost instantly.
“And Abigail Winters?” Giles still struggled. “She says that you took Arthur Waybourne to her establishment.”
“Possibly someone did,” Jerome agreed, a trace of venom showing through his voice, although he did not seek Waybourne’s face among the crowd. “But it was not I.”
“Why should anyone do that?”
Jerome’s eyebrows shot up.
“Are you asking me, sir? One might equally ask why I should have taken him myself. Whatever purpose you imagine was good enough for me, surely that would serve for someone else as easily? In fact, there are more—perhaps purely for his education? A young gentleman”—he gave the word a curious accent—“must learn his pleasures somewhere, and it is most assuredly not among his own class! And on a tutor’s salary, with a wife to keep, even if my taste or my ethics permitted my patronizing such a place, my purse would not!”
It was a telling point, and to her surprise Charlotte found herself glowing warm with satisfaction. Let them answer that! Where would Jerome have found the money?
But when it was Land’s turn he was quick.
“Did Arthur Waybourne have an allowance, Mr. Jerome?” he inquired smoothly.
Jerome’s face showed only the barest movement, but the point was not lost on him.
“Yes, sir, he said so.”
“Have you cause to doubt it?”
“No—he appeared to have money to spend.”
“Then he could have paid for his own prostitute, could he not?”
Jerome’s full mouth curled down fractionally with sour humor.
“I don’t know, sir, you will have to ask Sir Anstey what the allowance amounted to, and then discover—if you do not already know—what is the rate of a prostitute.”
The back of Land’s neck, where Charlotte could see it above his collar, flushed a dull red.
But it was suicidal. The court may not have had any love for Land, but Jerome had alienated himself entirely. He continued to be a prig, and at the same time he did not clear himself of the most obscene charge of a crime against one who may have been overprivileged and unlikable, but was still—in memory, at least—a child. To the black-coated jury, Arthur Waybourne had been young and desperately vulnerable.
The summing up for