Farriers' Lane - Anne Perry [156]
“I suppose it could have happened like that,” Tamar agreed, coming away from the door into the room. It had an odd smell, unfamiliar, at once musty and exciting. “It is the only thing which seems to make sense,” Tamar went on. “But who, and why? At the time of the trial I certainly hated the man.” Her face wrinkled with the pain of memory. “He hated Aaron so much. He was not dispassionate, he was full of rage, his voice shook when he was in the witness box. I remember him very clearly. And I believe it was he who beat Aaron, although Aaron would never say—at least not to me. But I think that was to protect me.” She stopped, for a moment having to struggle to keep any control at all. She turned away, fumbling for a handkerchief, bumping against one of the wig stands. Suddenly all the fear and the terror were back again, as if Aaron Godman were still alive, still suffering …
Charlotte could hardly bear to keep silent. It was only the knowledge of Caroline a few yards away, with Joshua Fielding, which held her from telling Tamar now that Aaron was innocent, and at last Pitt could prove it.
Nothing anyone could say would heal the past, words would be stupid and only betray a complete failure to understand. The only balm was to speak of something else.
“Don’t give up hope,” she said quietly to Tamar’s stiff, shaking back. “We are very close to the end now. I cannot yet tell you, but I am not simply speaking to comfort you. It really is close—I give you my word!”
Tamar stood absolutely still, then very slowly she turned around to face Charlotte. For several moments she did not speak but searched Charlotte’s face, trying to judge both her sincerity and her actual knowledge.
“Would it be pointless to ask you how you know?” she said almost under her breath. “Why you can say that?”
“Yes,” Charlotte replied. “If I could tell you I would have. But please believe me—it is true.”
Tamar took a deep breath and then swallowed hard. “Aaron will be cleared?”
“Please, don’t ask me to say any more now—and if you wish it to happen, say nothing to anyone—not even to Mr. Fielding. He may inadvertently say or do something which will ruin everything. I believe that Aaron did not do it—but I have no idea who did.”
Tamar smiled with a sad, ironic humor, sitting a little sideways on the clothes hamper.
“What you mean is you think it may have been Joshua,” she answered.
“Is that impossible?” Charlotte said very quietly.
Tamar sat a little farther back.
“I would like to say that of course it is, but I assume you are asking not for emotions but for reason. No, it is not impossible. He said he did not know whether Kingsley would have married me or not, and would not have interfered anyway; and that he went home straight from the theater that night. But there is no way he can prove it.” She lifted her chin a little. “I don’t believe it was him, but I don’t imagine that will weigh heavily with you.”
“I cannot allow it to,” Charlotte replied, knowing that was less than the truth. Part of her wished it to be Joshua. It would remove any threat from Caroline. It would end the uncertainty, the odd mixture of loss and anger, tenderness and jealousy. Jealousy! At least she had recognized the feeling, and the very pain of naming it was partially healing.
“No, of course not.” Tamar squared her shoulders and smiled. She stood up again, the wicker of the hamper squeaking. “Shall we take some tea? I am sure you must be cold, and quite ready to sit comfortably and talk of something more cheerful …” She hesitated at the door.
“Yes?” Charlotte waited.
“If I can help, you will tell me?” Tamar asked anxiously.
“Of course.”
Caroline was still standing on the edge of the stage when Joshua Fielding turned and smiled at her. He must have known she was there, even though his attention had apparently been on the other actors. She felt a sudden warmth, as if the sun had come out from the clouds. She wanted to move forward to him, but reticence held her back.
He waited a few moments, speaking to Clio,