Farriers' Lane - Anne Perry [115]
“It must have been dreadful,” Charlotte agreed. “I can barely imagine such a thing.” She glanced at Caroline briefly, hoping she understood the apology she intended for what she was about to say. “Although my own eldest sister was murdered, several years ago now, so I do have the deepest sympathy with you.”
Kathleen looked startled, and then immediately profoundly sympathetic. She regarded Charlotte anxiously. “Does that sound heartless? But you cannot grieve at fever pitch all the time. You get so tired, so incredibly weary. You need to be able to think of something else for a space, just to remind yourself that there is still a normal life separate from your loss.” She smiled self-consciously, then instantly was grave again. “You see, all London seemed to be obsessed with our tragedy and the horror of it. They talked about it day and night.”
“However, the court case was over quickly,” Charlotte hastened on. “And there was no appeal. The poor creature was quite mad.” She frowned. “Why on earth did this man appeal? Surely there can have been no purpose but to prolong everyone’s agony?”
“He always maintained he was not guilty.” Kathleen bit her lip. “Right to the gallows steps, so I heard.” She looked down at her hands clenched in her lap. “I sometimes have nightmares that that was true, and he died just as wrongfully as poor Kingsley—and in a way, even more terribly, because it was cold-blooded, if we can say such a thing of so public a rage.” She looked up at Charlotte. “I’m sorry. This is quite an appalling thing to be discussing with people one barely knows who have called for tea. I am ashamed of myself, but you were so quick to understand—and I do appreciate that.”
“Please don’t apologize,” Charlotte said quickly. “I would far rather discuss reality. I assure you I am not in the least interested in the weather, I know very little of society, and I care even less. And I cannot afford to be fashionable.”
On any other occasion Caroline would have kicked Charlotte under her skirt for such indiscreet candor, but this time she cared far too much about the real issue behind their presence.
Kathleen smiled ruefully. “You really are the most refreshing person to speak with, Miss Pitt. I am so grateful you came.”
Charlotte felt a stab of guilt, then thought of Aaron Godman, and it was immediately overridden.
“I should not let it trouble you,” she said gently. “Some people will protest, even when they are most certainly responsible for what happened. Why was he supposed to have done such a thing? Robbery? Or did they know each other?”
“They knew each other,” Kathleen said very quietly indeed. “Kingsley, my husband, was having an affaire with the man’s sister, and she believed he would marry her—which of course was nonsense. But she was misled, as women so often are, when they are in love.” A sad reflective smile touched her lips, utterly without bitterness. “We all have our dreams, and some are so precious it is not easy to let them go.”
“How dreadful for you.” Charlotte meant it wholeheartedly. The thought of Pitt even entertaining desires for another woman was acutely painful. How she would bear it if she learned he was actually having an affaire she had no idea. “I am so terribly sorry!”
Caroline was silent, allowing Charlotte to lead the conversation.
Kathleen heard the anguish in Charlotte’s voice and shook her head a tiny fraction, dismissing the grief.
“Oh, Kingsley was very charming, and amusing, and generous,” she said gently. “And I never saw him in an ill temper, but I always knew he was weak. He liked to please,