Callander Square - Anne Perry [102]
“D—Dolly?” he stuttered.
“I could have forgiven you for sleeping with her, as long as you were discreet,” she said, looking directly at him. It seemed as if it was the first time she had ever really looked at him. “But not for killing her child, Reggie; never for that.”
“I didn’t kill the child!” He was becoming hysterical. He could hear it himself but could do nothing to stop it. “It was an abortion. It went wrong! I didn’t do it!”
“Don’t lie, Reggie. Of course you did it. You allowed her to seek an abortion in the back streets instead of sending her away to the country to bear the child. She could have stayed there, or you could have had the child adopted. You didn’t. I shall not forgive you for that, Reggie; not ever.” She stood up again and turned away. “I trust you did not have anything to do with Freddie’s death. It would have been extremely stupid of you.”
“Stupid! Is that all you can say? Stupid! Do you actually imagine I could have anything to do with killing Freddie?”
“No. I think it would be most unlike you to have done anything so decisive. But I am glad to hear you say it. I hope you are telling the truth.”
“Do you doubt me?”
“I don’t think I care very much, except for the scandal. If you manage to keep the police out of it, that is all I ask.”
He stared at her helplessly. Suddenly he was cold, as if a longworn skin had been ripped from him and left him naked. He watched her go out of the room and felt like a child in the dark.
Having told the police that Jemima was the one who had blackmailed him, and therefore having been unable to go back on it, it seemed the obvious, ideal solution to blame her for Freddie’s murder also. Now he must make it stick. He must behave as if he believed it to be the truth. It was inconceivable that a man, knowing such a thing, would keep in his house, tutoring his children, a woman who was a blackmailer and a murderess. The only possible course was to dismiss her immediately.
It was unfortunate, of course. In the circumstances, there would be no one who would take her in, but what else was he to do? Pity he had not taken the opportunity a few minutes ago of telling Adelina—but the thought of Adelina was highly uncomfortable at the moment, better removed from mind. He must find Jemima and tell her she must leave. He need not explain to her precisely why, which would be most embarrassing—he could avoid that very well on the claim that he would not accuse her before the police did, and perhaps jeopardize the justice of her cause. Yes, that sounded excellent. He even felt a flush of rectitude, and rose from the table to set about it immediately.
Charlotte heard of it at midday when Jemima arrived on the doorstep, white-faced, a boxchest on the pavement beside her, a hansom clopping away already reaching the corner of the street. She must have stood on the step for some moments, afraid to knock.
Charlotte answered the door herself, since there was no one else; one would hardly wish to send Mrs. Wickes, with her hands wet, apron splashed, hair sprouting like a bollard willow.
“Jemima!” She saw the chest. “Whatever has happened? Come in, you look frozen and starved. Can you lift the other end of the box with me? We can’t leave it there, or someone may steal it.”
Obediently Jemima bent, and a few minutes later they were both inside and Charlotte looked at her more closely.
“What is it?” she said gently. “Has Mr. Southeron accused you of blackmailing him?”
Jemima looked up, shock and a kind of relief in her face that she did not have to break the news herself.
“You know?”
Charlotte was ashamed now for not having warned her, although perhaps it would have done little good. She should have thought of some way for Pitt to prevent Reggie giving tongue to his lies.
“Yes. I meant to tell you when I came the other day.” She put out her hands and clasped Jemima’s. “I’m so sorry. When I saw how you felt about Brandy Balantyne, I couldn’t speak of Reggie and his maids