Bluegate Fields - Anne Perry [84]
Charlotte reached for the apricot preserve.
“Of course it’s plain!” she snapped. “That doesn’t mean it’s true! Arthur Waybourne may not have been as innocent as everyone is supposing. Perhaps he had a relationship with the other two boys, and they were frightened, or revolted, and they killed him.”
“Is there any reason whatsoever to suppose that?” Emily was entirely unconvinced, and Charlotte had the feeling she was rapidly losing her attention.
“I haven’t told you everything,” she said, trying a different angle.
“You haven’t told me anything!” Emily said waspishly. “Not anything worth thinking about.”
“I went to the trial,” Charlotte continued. “I heard all the evidence and saw the people.”
“You didn’t say that!” Emily exclaimed, her cheeks coloring with frustration. She sat very upright in the Chippendale chair. “I’ve never been to a trial!”
“Of course you haven’t,” Charlotte agreed with a faint flicker of spite. “Ladies of quality don’t!”
Emily’s eyes narrowed in a look of warning. This was suddenly far too exciting a subject to give way to sisterly envy.
Charlotte accepted the hint. After all, she wanted Emily’s cooperation; indeed, it was what she had come for. Rapidly she told her everything she could remember, describing the courtroom, the sewerman who had found the body, Anstey Waybourne, the two boys, Esmond Vanderley and the other than who gave evidence on Jerome’s previous character, Albie Frobisher, and Abigail Winters. She did her best to recount accurately what they had said. She also tried as clearly as she could to explain her own mixture of feelings about Jerome himself, and about Eugenie. She ended by expounding her theories regarding Godfrey, Titus, and Arthur Waybourne.
Emily stared at her for a long time before replying. Her tea was cold; she ignored it.
“I see,” she said at last. “At least I see that we don’t see—not nearly enough to be sure. I didn’t know there were boys who made their living like that. It’s appalling—poor creatures. Although I have discovered that there are a great many more revolting things in high society than I ever used to imagine living at home in Cater Street. We were incredibly innocent men. I find some of George’s friends quite repellent. In fact, I have asked him why on earth he puts up with them! He simply says he has known them all his life, and when you have grown used to a person, you tend to overlook the unpleasant things they do. They sort of creep into your knowledge one by one, and you don’t ever realize just how horrible they are, because you half see the person the way you remember them and don’t bother to look at them properly anymore—not as you would someone you have just met. Maybe that’s what happened with Jerome. His wife never noticed how big the change was in him.” She raised her eyebrows and looked at the table, reached for the bell, then changed her mind.
“That could just as easily be true of Arthur Waybourne,” Charlotte reasoned.
“I suppose nobody was allowed to inquire.” Emily screwed up her face thoughtfully. “They couldn’t. I mean I can imagine the family’s reaction to having the police in the house at all! Death is bad enough.”
“Exactly! Thomas can’t get any further. The case is closed.”
“Naturally. And they will hang the tutor in three weeks.”
“Unless we do something.”
Emily considered, frowning. “What, for instance?”
“Well, there must be more to know about Arthur, for a start. And I would like to see those two boys without their fathers present. I should dearly like to know what they would say if they were questioned properly.”
“Highly unlikely you’ll ever know.” Emily was a realist. “The more there is to hush up, the more their families will make sure they are not pressed too hard. They will have learned their answers by heart now and they won’t dare go back on it. They’ll say exactly the same thing whoever asks them.”
“I don’t know,” Charlotte countered. “They might say it differently if they are not on their guard. We might see something, sense something.”
“In fact, what you came for was to get me to find