Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [106]
“I agree with you,” she said firmly. “Sometimes to forget is the only sanity left, otherwise the past imprisons us and makes the future impossible.” She looked at Cordelia. “I shall accept Lady Albemarle’s invitation, and do all I can to gain the fullest support.” She straightened her skirts with a swift hand. “Thank you for your hospitality. If I hear more, I shall, of course, inform you. Good afternoon.”
Sheridan stood also, and accompanied her to the front door. He stopped just inside, opening it himself so the footman retired out of hearing.
“Vespasia,” he said gently.
She did not want to look at him, but now deliberately to avoid doing so would be worse.
“Enid is afraid that I killed Magnus myself,” he told her. “She sent her footman to follow me. He is loyal to her and loathes Edward. He would not betray me if it were not her wish. I think perhaps you are afraid of the same thing. I can see it in your face.”
There was no escape now. “Did you?” she asked.
He smiled very slightly, just a tiny curve at the corners of his lips. “Thank you for not denying it. Your honesty was always one of the things I loved about you most. No, I did not. I tried again and again to dissuade him from his path, but he would not listen. He was passionately sure that the corruption was too deep to cure except by violence. But I did not kill him, and I don’t know who did. I am hoping your Mr. Pitt will find that out.”
“Enid?” she whispered.
“I don’t think so. But she could have had that footman do it for her. Enid has far more…passion than Denoon knows…or Cordelia. I pray not. It would be so terribly wrong of her to have dragged that young man into such a thing, whatever for.”
“If she fears you did it, then she cannot know he did,” she pointed out.
“I know that,” he said with a bleak, agonized smile. “Perhaps I am just afraid of shadows. You were never afraid, were you.” It was not a question.
“Oh, yes, I was!” she said with sudden honesty. “I still am. I just refuse to look at how much, or I might not have the nerve to stand.”
He bent suddenly and kissed her, gently, on the mouth. Then he pushed open the door and she walked out to her waiting carriage.
Charlotte was at home in the late afternoon when the doorbell rang. Gracie answered it, and a moment later came to the kitchen, her eyes wide, to say that Mr. Victor Narraway wished to speak with her.
Charlotte was startled. “Here?”
“I put ’im in the parlor,” Gracie said apologetically, her eyes wide. “ ’E looks awful angry!”
Charlotte put down the iron, straightened her skirt, reached up automatically to make sure her hair was more or less tidy, and went to the parlor.
Narraway was standing in the middle of the floor, his back to the fireplace. He was dressed immaculately, his hair smooth and thick, his body rigid. His face was so tense; his voice, when he spoke, precise, sharp-edged.
“Mrs. Pitt, this morning you went to see Sir Charles Voisey at his home. Please don’t embarrass us both by denying it.”
His arrogance lit a sudden rage in her. “Why on earth should I deny it, Mr. Narraway?” she said hotly. Only the fact that he was Pitt’s superior officer kept her from adding that it was none of his concern, and she considered him to be ill-mannered. “I do not know of any reason why I should account for myself to you, truthfully or otherwise.”
“Have you forgotten who Voisey is?” he said almost between his teeth. “Have you put it out of your mind that he was responsible for the death of Mario Corena and Reverend Rae, and very possibly attempted to kill you, your children, and your maid?”
“Of course I haven’t,” she said tartly. “Even if I forget my own fear, I could not forget Mario Corena, for Lady Vespasia’s sake.” She did not mention Reverend Rae. In this instance, only Corena mattered.
“Why did you go to see him, Mrs. Pitt?” he demanded.
For a moment she considered telling him. Then her temper took control. “I thought you were against the bill to increase police powers to question people without