Death in the Devil's Acre - Anne Perry [103]
In that instant, Charlotte moved forward, reaching for the gun; her hands clasped over Balantyne’s and swung it around to aim at Victoria.
Victoria swept her arm over a side table. There was a brief gleam of light on blades, and scissors came down in Christina’s chest, blood billowing out. The gun fired into the ceiling.
Balantyne caught his daughter as she slowly sank to her knees and crumpled down into a little huddle. He held her in his arms.
Charlotte picked up a footstool and hit Victoria with it as hard as she could, knocking her over and leaving her stunned and motionless on the red carpet. Then she stood in the middle of the room, the stool still in her hands. Mary, seized with fear now that she was alone, turned and bent over Victoria, crying like a lost child.
Where was Pitt? It was all too much; the pain was too persistent and too hard. She was exhausted of anger, of anything but pity, and her body ached with bruises. Tears were running down her face, but she was too empty to sob.
Balantyne let Christina go gently onto the floor. Her eyes were closed; the lace front of her gown was scarlet with blood.
Charlotte reached out and touched her hand to Balantyne’s head, feeling the texture of his hair under her fingers. She stroked it for a moment, once, then again more softly. She turned away and saw a police constable standing in the doorway, and behind him the familiar, beautiful scarecrow figure of Pitt. Of course—the shots! Pitt must have left policemen outside; he had worked it out without her—this had been unnecessary.
He came in slowly, pushing past the constable who was fishing in his pockets for handcuffs for Mary and Victoria. He did not speak to Balantyne. There was nothing to say that would mean anything to his horror or his grief now—and Christina was beyond them all.
Gently he put his arms around Charlotte and held her. He touched her hands, her arms, pushed back her hair.
“You look ridiculous!” he said in sudden fury when he knew she was not injured, when he felt her bones were whole, her body strong. “Good God—you look terrible! Go home! And don’t you ever dare do this again! Not ever! You damn well do as you’re told! Do you hear me?”
She nodded, too overwhelmed with horror and pity, and a sense of her own safety in his love, to look for any words.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1985 by Anne Perry
cover design by Jason Gabbert
978-1-4532-1911-9
This edition published in 2011 by Open Road Integrated Media
180 Varick Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Copyright