Farriers' Lane - Anne Perry [155]
And if he were not guilty, but it was Devlin O’Neil, or someone else, then what if Caroline did have an affair with him? How could Charlotte possibly govern her emotions about that? She could not be happy for it. And all the reasoning in the world, and Pitt’s arguments, which were so sensible, still did not alter the way she felt.
So she accompanied Caroline, who looked less smart than was her custom a few months ago, and definitely younger. She was not in the height of fashion at all, rather more in the romantic vision of the pre-Raphaelites, her gown with a design of flowers and leaves, her hair more loosely dressed, and no hat at all.
They were welcomed at the theater door and permitted in as if they were old friends, which in itself disturbed Charlotte. The rehearsal was just coming to an end. It was a comedy, although there were highly dramatic elements. Even as an amateur with very little experience of the theater, Charlotte could see the skill in the timing of a line, the precise inflection of a voice, the gesture of a hand, the line of the body. It fascinated her to see how much greater was the skill of Tamar Macaulay than that of any of the others on the stage; and how much more her eye was drawn to Joshua than to the other men. It was not that he concerned her personally, or that Caroline never took her eyes from him, it was that he had a magnetism which would have compelled anyone.
When the final line was delivered, almost before Mr. Passmore gave them leave to go, Tamar turned and came towards Charlotte, her vivid face tense, her eyes searching. Charlotte was taken by surprise. She had not even thought Tamar aware of her presence; her concentration had seemed total. She did not bother with any formality.
“Charlotte! How good to see you. I had feared you had abandoned us. I would hardly blame you.” She took Charlotte by the arm and guided her away from the wings where they had been waiting and along a bare-board passage. “We have been trying for five years, and achieved nothing. It was most unfair of me to place my hopes upon you, and in a matter of weeks. I am most sincerely sorry, and the inexcusable thing is that I shall certainly go on doing it. I cannot help it.” She took a deep breath, facing Charlotte, her black eyes burning. “I still do not believe Aaron was guilty. I don’t believe he could have killed Kingsley, and I am quite sure he would not have done that to him afterwards.” A brief, ironic smile crossed her lips and there was a catch in her voice. “And he cannot have poisoned Judge Stafford.”
“Or hanged Constable Paterson,” Charlotte added impulsively.
Tamar blinked. “Hanged Constable Paterson?” she said confusedly. “Why was he hanged? Was it he who killed Judge Stafford? But why? And how can he be hanged so soon? I didn’t even read of a trial.”
“He was not executed,” Charlotte explained. “He was murdered. We don’t know why, or by whom, but it seems most probable that it had to do with the Farriers’ Lane case, although of course it is not certain.”
Tamar reached past her and opened the door to the small, cramped dressing room. It was filled with costumes on a rail in one corner, a hamper with petticoats spilling out in another, a table with a mirror, jars of greasepaint and powder, and three stands with wigs. But as she was the leading actress, it was at least private.
“Tell me,” she demanded, leading the way in, pushing a chair around for Charlotte and then leaning backward to close the door again.
“Constable Paterson was the—” Charlotte began.
“I know who he was,” Tamar interrupted. “What happened to him?”
“He was murdered,” Charlotte said simply. “Someone came in the late evening and hanged him from the chandelier fitting in his own bedroom.”
“You mean attacked him?” Tamar was incredulous. “Did he not fight to defend himself?”
“It seems not.” Charlotte shook her head. “Perhaps it was someone he knew, and he did not expect to be harmed,