Highgate Rise - Anne Perry [149]
“They might well,” Drummond agreed. “Other than that you are left with some as yet unnamed slum profiteer who was threatened by Clemency’s uncovering work. I suppose you have looked into who else’s tenements she was interested in? What about Lutterworth? You said he’s socially ambitious—especially for Flora—and wants to leave his trade roots behind and marry her into society? Slum profiteering wouldn’t help that.” He pulled a sour face. “Although I’m not sure it would entirely hurt it either. A good few of the aristocracy made their money in highly questionable ways.”
“Undoubtedly,” Pitt agreed. “But they do it discreetly. Vice they will overlook, vulgarity they may accept—with reluctance, if there is enough money attached—but indiscretion never.”
“You’re getting very cynical, Pitt.” Drummond was smiling as he said it.
Pitt shrugged. “All I can find out about Lutterworth is that his money was in the north, and he sold nearly all his interests. There never was any in London that I can trace.”
“What about the political aspect?” Drummond would not give up yet. “Could Clemency have been murdered because of some other connection with Dalgetty and his Fabian tracts—and Lindsay the same?”
“I haven’t traced any connection.” Pitt screwed up his face. “But certainly Clemency knew Lindsay, and they liked each other. But since they are both dead, it is impossible to know what they spoke about, unless Shaw knows and can be persuaded to tell us. And since both houses are burnt to the ground, there are no papers to find.”
“You might have to go and speak to some of the other members of the society—”
“I will, if it comes to that; but today I’m going to Lindsay’s funeral. And perhaps I can discover what Clemency did on her last day or two alive, who she spoke to and what happened that made someone so angry or so frightened that they killed her.”
“Report to me afterwards, will you? I want to know.”
“Yes sir. Now I must leave, or I shall be late. I hate funerals. I hate them most of all when I look around the faces of the mourners and think that one of them murdered him—or her.”
Charlotte also was preparing to attend the funeral, but she was startled to have received a hand-addressed note from Emily to say that not only would she and Jack attend, and for convenience would pick Charlotte up in their carriage at ten o’clock, but that Great-Aunt Vespasia also would come. No explanation was given, nor when they arrived, since it was now five minutes past nine, would there be any opportunity to decline the arrangements or ask for any alternative.
“Thank heaven at least Mama and Grandmama are remaining at home.” Charlotte folded the note and put it in her sewing basket, where Pitt would not find it, simply as a matter of habit. Of course he would ultimately know they had all attended, but there was no way she would be able to pretend to Pitt it was a matter of personal grief, although she had liked Lindsay. They were going because they were curious, and still felt they could discover something of meaning about Lindsay’s death, and Clemency’s. And that Pitt might not approve of.
Perhaps Emily knew something already? She and Jack had said they would probe the political questions, and Jack had made some contact with the Liberal party with a view to standing for Parliament when a vacant seat arose that would accept him as a candidate. And if he were truly serious about continuing Clemency’s work, he might also have met with the Fabians and others with strong socialist beliefs—not, of course, that they had the slightest chance of returning a member to the House. But ideas were necessary, whether to argue for or against.
She was busy dressing her hair and unconsciously trying to make the very best of her appearance. She did not realize till she had been there half an hour and was still not entirely satisfied, just what an effort she was making. She blushed