Death in the Devil's Acre - Anne Perry [96]
Charlotte felt the heat of shame burn inside her so painfully that she could not look at Emily’s face. She already knew how deeply she was at fault, but to have Emily tell her so made it the sharper. “It was unintentional,” she said defensively.
“Rubbish!” Emily snapped back. “You wanted some adventure, and you took it. You did not foresee the result because you did not bother to look!”
“Well, if you are so excessively clever, why didn’t you tell me?” Charlotte demanded, swallowing on the lump in her throat.
“Because I didn’t see it either,” Emily admitted. “How was I to know you’d behave like a complete fool? You never used to be able to flirt to save yourself!”
“I was not flirting!”
“Yes, you were!” Emily sighed and shut her eyes. “Maybe you are just too stupid to realize your own success, I grant you that. But I’m never going to take you out anywhere again. You’re a disaster.”
“Yes, you will, because you couldn’t bear to be left out of it if there were another society murder and Thomas got the case.”
Emily looked around at her.
“I know I behaved badly,” Charlotte went on. “It doesn’t help to have you tell me. I’d undo it if I could.”
“You can’t! We might as well put it to some use. What else do you know? I’ve been wondering if all the murders were committed by the same person. Or, even worse, if only one of them really mattered.”
“What do you mean—mattered? How can a murder not matter?”
“If only one mattered to the murderer,” Emily said deliberately. “What if Beau Astley wanted to kill his brother for the money? I believe there is quite a lot of it. If he killed Bertie ordinarily, he would be the first suspect himself. But if Bertie were only one of several deaths, all the others having no connection with Beau at all—”
“That’s ghastly!”
“Yes, I know. And I like Beau better each time I see him. But murderers, even lunatics, are not necessarily personally objectionable. And unfortunately plenty of totally worthy and sane people are.”
Charlotte had found this painfully true. “Bertie Astley owned a whole row of houses in the Acre. That’s where the Astley money comes from.”
“Oh.” Emily let out her breath in a sigh. “I suppose I should have thought of that.”
“I don’t see where it helps very much.”
“Who does Thomas think it was?”
“He won’t tell me.”
Emily considered in silence for a while.
“I wonder—” Charlotte began.
“What?”
“I’m not sure.” She was thinking of Christina. If Christina had also been one of Max’s women—young, hungry, dissatisfied because Alan Ross did not give her the fierce, total love she wanted, the essence of him was always just out of reach—had she looked to prove herself with other men, and so been drawn into one affair after another, in an endless pursuit?
And if Ross had found out—And why should he not? It would surely be simple enough, once he suspected.
“Don’t be stupid,” Emily said impatiently. “Of course you’re sure. You may not be right, but you know what you mean!”
“No, I don’t.”
“Oh, Charlotte!” Emily’s face softened. “You can’t hide from it—not once you’ve realized. Of course it could be Balantyne.”
“The general!” Charlotte was appalled. “Oh, no! No, it couldn’t!”
“Why not?” Emily said gently. “If Christina is one of Max’s women, he wouldn’t be able to bear the disgrace. He’s used to discipline and sacrifice. Soldiers who disgrace themselves find a gun and take the honorable way out. Somehow it evens the balance for them—they can be looked on with an obscure kind of respect. He would do that for Christina, wouldn’t he?”
“But Christina wasn’t shot! Why would he do that to all those other people? It doesn’t make any sense!” It was a protest in the wind, and she knew it.
“Of course it does.” Emily put out her hand and touched Charlotte. “He fought in Africa, didn’t he? He’s seen all kinds of savage rituals and atrocities. Perhaps it isn’t so terrible to him. Maybe Max came back to her, saw her at some party or out somewhere, and approached