Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [100]
He stared at her in astonishment.
“Do not imagine I would not use it. I have no vindictiveness towards Mrs. Cavendish. Actually, I think it more than probable she did not intentionally poison Reverend Rae, but she would find that hard to prove at trial, perhaps impossible. Then, of course, she would hang.” She used the word deliberately, and saw the blood drain from his face.
“But I love my family, just as you love yours, Sir Charles. There are several copies of that proof, and I would use it without hesitation if you harm my husband, or any other member of my family.” She met his stare levelly and unflinchingly.
The silence stretched out between them, cold and dangerous. She did not look away.
“I think not, Mrs. Pitt,” he said at last.
“Oh, you’re wrong!” she let all her passion and certainty spill into her voice. “I will!”
His smile was very slight, like sunrise on a glacier. “If I should hurt Pitt, and you destroy my sister, then what will you have left to protect yourself, and your children? And you will protect yourself, because without you they cannot survive.”
Everything inside her froze, paralyzed.
“You may speak rashly, Mrs. Pitt,” he said very softly. “But you are not a stupid woman. You will do what you have to, to protect your children. I don’t for a moment doubt your courage, or your will. But neither do I doubt your perception of reality. You will not destroy my sister as long as you have anyone left to defend.” He inclined his head very slightly. “May I show you to the door? Perhaps my footman can fetch you a hansom?”
She felt dizzy. He was right and they both knew it. It would be idiotic to argue. She must answer him, make herself speak, and move.
“No thank you. I can find my own, when I wish it.” Should she add that there were degrees of damage? Whispers, rumors that could wound without killing? Or would that only make him think also of what he could do that would injure Pitt, or Daniel and Jemima. Or even Tellman?
He was waiting.
No. Better say nothing. She turned and walked out the door with him two steps behind her. It would be farcical to wish each other a good day.
She reached the door, went out into the sunlit street without looking back, and walked briskly away.
She found a hansom within ten minutes, and gave the driver Aunt Vespasia’s address, then sat back. She was trembling in the aftermath of having faced Voisey, which she had no intention whatever of ever allowing Pitt to know. There were a few things, a very few, that it was both wiser and kinder not to share. Learning that was part of growing up.
She alighted at Vespasia’s house, paid the driver, and went to ring the front doorbell. She intended to see Vespasia, or wait for her return, should she be out.
She was fortunate. Vespasia was not only in, but delighted to see her. Then when they were in the sitting room facing the garden, and the maid had left, Vespasia looked at her with concern.
“My dear, you are very pale. Has something happened?”
Charlotte would not tell her about the encounter with Voisey. She was frightened. A shield in which she had trust had melted away in her hand. She felt not only vulnerable but foolish. She had not yet absorbed the shock, nor formed any plan to deal with it. It would be sufficient to tell Vespasia about Pitt’s adventure on the Josephine, which she did in as much detail as she knew.
“And is Thomas all right this morning?” Vespasia asked with concern.
“He may develop a cold,” Charlotte replied. “And I am certain he will have