Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [126]
She had no idea how long it was before she finally sat up again, calmer, and began to think. She had left herself no option but to fight. At last she had made a decision. It might be the wrong one, but it was better than losing because she had never found the passion or the courage to try.
Minnie had discussed enough of the truth to be killed in order to silence her. Apparently a broken Limoges dish had been important. Cahoon had described it: white and blue with a little gold. At the time she had imagined it quite clearly; a pedestal dish, with gold lattice around the border and a picture in the center of a man and woman sitting very casually on a garden seat. The blue was in their clothes. She thought of it like that because that was the only Limoges that she could remember seeing. Of course this one could have been any shape or design.
Then she remembered, with a feeling like ice in her stomach, where she had seen it. It was in Cahoon’s cases that he had brought with him, here to the Palace. That was how he knew about it! He had not deduced anything at all.
Perhaps it had nothing to do with the woman’s murder, but he had seized the opportunity to place the blame on Julius, somehow using that dish.
But how? It made no sense. The dish was in the Queen’s room. Did Pitt know anything about it? Certainly he would not know that Cahoon had brought with him one exactly the same. Tomorrow Elsa would tell him. Of course Cahoon would never forgive her, but she had declared war on him anyway; there was no retreating now. If she did not win, she might be blamed for something unforgivable, put aside as an adulteress—or worse, somehow tied in with the murder of the street woman.
There was no one she could turn to for help. They were all fighting their own battles: Liliane to protect Hamilton from the destruction he seemed determined to find in the bottom of a bottle. Why? Was it because Liliane was still in love with Julius?
Olga wanted to win Simnel back from a dead woman whose fire and laughter she could never equal, and whose selfishness, appetite, and occasional streaks of cruelty she would never sink to.
And Simnel, Julius’s brother, who should have been fighting to save him, protect him, was too eaten up by envy to allow himself that loyalty.
If only she could speak to Julius himself. If she could ask him, listen to his answer, surely she would know whether to believe him or not. No one had asked him, they all believed Cahoon’s word. For that matter, had Pitt asked him?
He was locked in and only the servants had keys so they could take him food. Tomorrow the police would come; then she would never see him again. There was only one possible decision: She must wait until the household was asleep, then go downstairs and find the keys, even if she searched by candlelight and it took her half the night.
She waited until two o’clock in the morning. She was exhausted but unable to sleep, although she dared not lie down in case she did drift into unconsciousness and waken when it was already light, and so miss her only chance.
She tiptoed down the stairs, feeling ridiculous, as if she were committing some crime. Then she realized that actually she was. It was probably an offense against some law to unlock the door of an imprisoned man. It was certainly a gross abuse of hospitality. If anyone knew, then she would pay dearly for it. She would be disgraced, socially nonexistent from now on. She hesitated only for a moment in her step. What had she to lose? Physical comfort, that was about all.
But what if Julius really were everything Cahoon said of him? Then he might attack her, take the keys and escape. He must know they would never give him a trial, fair or otherwise. It would be his only chance not to spend the rest of his life locked away in an asylum.
Was she tempted to let him go, deliberately? Yes! The thought of him imprisoned forever was hideous. He would be there until he really was mad, and there could never