Cardington Crescent - Anne Perry [102]
Her chin came up and her face was tight and frightened. “I’m going to marry Mungo Hare, whatever you say!”
For an icy moment he was speechless. Then the torrent broke.
“You are not, my girl! You are going to marry whomever I tell you! And I say you will marry Jack Radley. And if he proves unsuitable, or unwilling, then I will find someone else. But you are most certainly not going to marry that penniless young man with no family. What in heaven’s name are you thinking of, child? No daughter of mine marries a curate! An archdeacon perhaps, but not a curate! And that one hasn’t even any prospects. I forbid you to meet or speak to him again! I shall talk to Beamish and see that Hare does not call at this house in future, nor will you have occasion to speak with him in church. And if you do not give me your word on it, then I shall tell Beamish that Hare has made advances towards you, and he will be defrocked. Do you understand me, Anastasia?”
Tassie was so stunned she seemed to sway.
“Now, go to your room and remain there till I tell you you may come out!” Eustace added. He swung round to Charlotte. “And you, Mrs. Pitt, may take your leave as soon as you have packed whatever belongings you have.”
“But first I would like to speak with you, Mr. March.” Charlotte had one card to play, and the decision was made without hesitation. She met his eyes levelly. “We have something to discuss.”
“I—” He teetered on the edge of defying her, his mouth a thin line, his cheeks purple. But his nerve failed. “Go to your room, Anastasia!” he barked furiously.
Charlotte turned to her with a brief smile. “I’ll come and see you in a few minutes,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry.”
Tassie waited a moment, her eyes wide; then, seeing something in Charlotte’s face, she let go of the bannister, turned slowly, and climbed up the stairs and disappeared onto the landing.
“Well?” Eustace demanded, but his voice had a tremor, and the belligerence in his face was artificial.
Charlotte debated for an instant whether to try subtlety or to be so direct he could not possibly mistake her. She knew her limitations, and chose the latter.
“I think you should allow Tassie to continue with her work to help the poor,” she said, as calmly as she could, “and marry Mr. Hare as soon as it can be arranged without seeming hasty and causing unkind remarks.”
“Out of the question.” He shook his head. “Quite out of the question. He has no money, no family, and no prospects.”
She did not bother to argue Mungo Hare’s virtues; they would weigh little with Eustace. She struck at him where he was vulnerable.
“If you do not,” she said slowly and clearly, meeting his eyes, “I shall see that your affair with your son’s wife becomes public property. So far it is only with the police, and although it is disgusting, it is not a crime. But if Society were aware of it, your position would be untenable. Nearly everyone will turn a blind eye to a little discreet philandering, but seducing your son’s wife in your own house—over Christmas! And then continuing to force yourself on her—”
“Stop it!” The cry was dragged out of him. “Stop it!”
“The queen would not approve,” she went on mercilessly. “She is rather a prudish old lady, with an obsession about virtue, especially marital virtue and family life. There would be no peerage for you if she knew this. In fact, you would be wiped off every guest list in London.”
“All right!” The surrender was strangled in his throat, his eyes beseeching. “All right! She can marry the bloody curate! For God’s sake don’t tell anyone about Sybilla! I didn’t kill her—or George. I swear it!”
“Possibly.” She would give him nothing. “The police have the diary, and as long as you are guilty of no crime against the law, there is no reason why they should ever make it known. I shall ask my husband to destroy it—after the murder is solved. For William’s sake, not yours.”
He swallowed hard and spoke with difficulty,