Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [45]
Charlotte remembered the time when the two of them had involved themselves in Pitt’s investigations. These had usually been murders, driven by personal greed and hunger, or by fear of the exposure of some private sin. Together they had done things in the name of detection that now seemed outrageous, and yet she was not ashamed. They had uncovered truths and obtained at least some kind of justice, even if there had been tragedy as well. She also missed those times, even though much of what had made such exploits impossible now were Jack taking his career in Parliament too seriously for Emily to risk a wild indiscretion, and Pitt’s move to secret and more dangerous work in Special Branch. Jack’s move was good; Pitt’s was unavoidable; and therefore it was foolish to grieve over either.
“In a sense it is related to Thomas’s work,” she answered the question. She followed Emily into the room and sat down. “It is to do with this anarchist bombing in Myrdle Street, where Magnus Landsborough was killed,” she finished.
The light went out of Emily’s face. “Oh, that’s appalling! I mean it’s awful for the destruction, of course, and Magnus Landsborough’s death, although one wonders what on earth he was doing with such people! But there is a group in Parliament who are trying to bring in a bill to arm the police and make it possible to search people’s homes at the drop of a hat. Jack is afraid it will undo years of goodwill, and far from helping the police, it will actually make their day-to-day work much harder.” Her eyes were now deeply shadowed. “I’m not sure that it matters as much as he says, but nothing I can do persuades him not to fight against it.”
Charlotte looked at Emily, sitting hunched forward on the elegant sofa. Her hands were stiff, her face tight with anxiety. For all the sunshine and the colors around them, the bowls of flowers and the scent of cut grass blowing in through the half-open window, there was fear in the room.
“You don’t want him to?” Charlotte asked. Surely after all the wasted years of Jack’s youth, Emily should be proud of him for taking up a battle, even relieved that he had such a sense of purpose. She had wanted it long enough, fought, cajoled, and persuaded him.
Emily’s delicate mouth tightened impatiently. “It’s an ugly battle, Charlotte!” she said tersely. “A lot of people care about it very much. They’re frightened, and fear makes people dangerous. Tanqueray is nobody in particular, but he’s only the spokesman. There are powerful interests behind him, and they are not going to have patience, or mercy, with anyone who tries to block them.”
“Do you know who else is involved?” Charlotte asked, avoiding the subject of danger until she was certain her own anger would not show through.
“I could give you a dozen names!” Emily responded immediately. “Some of them are in very high office, and quite willing to ruin Jack, or anyone else who stands in their way. What does Thomas think? Does he want guns for the police? Jack said he wouldn’t, but perhaps after the gun battle in Long Spoon Lane he might feel differently.”
Charlotte bit her lip. She had not intended to confide her sense of exclusion to Emily, but she found it almost impossible to hold it secret any longer. She understood Emily’s fear so very well. They should not be separate even in this.
“He doesn’t,” she said quietly, meeting Emily’s eyes. “There is something troubling him far more than he is telling me, and I think it is not only a danger, but something that he is both sad and ashamed of, which is why he won’t discuss it.”
“Thomas?” Emily said in surprise. “Ashamed?”
“Not for himself,” Charlotte corrected the error defensively. “For the police. He has mentioned corruption, but I think it is worse than he is saying. There’s hardly anyone he can trust.”
“Corruption!” Emily said sharply, the last vestige of ease vanishing from her face. “No wonder Jack hates the thought of them having guns. If he could show that, then—”
“No!” Charlotte put out her hand as if she could physically stop her. “Remember, Wetron