Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [54]
“That’s not fair!” she protested, ignoring the men.
“It’s perfectly fair,” Charlotte responded. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to the men. “She’s very overwrought.” She turned back to Emily. “And if you are honest with yourself, not to mention with me, you would not wish it otherwise. Were he to avoid the issue you would have no time for him at all. You might love him, but you would also despise him. And that kind of love does not last very long.”
Emily looked appalled. In an instant her fury had evaporated.
“Charlotte, I’m sorry!” she said with total contrition. “I’m just terrified he is going to get into terrible trouble, and won’t know how to get out of it. And I don’t know what to do to help!”
Charlotte knew exactly what Emily was feeling—the helplessness, the anger because it was unfair—but she should have expected it. She knew perfectly well how society worked, and if she thought about it, so did Jack. He had chosen his path because he wanted it—just as Pitt had done so many times.
“You can’t help, except by believing in him,” Charlotte said gently, wanting now only to help. “Don’t let him doubt himself, and above all don’t let him think you have no confidence in him, even if you are so frightened you could be sick.”
“Is that what you’re going to do?” Emily asked.
“More or less. No, less,” Charlotte admitted. “I’m going to learn what I can about Charles Voisey, beginning right this moment. He must have some vulnerability, and I intend to find it. I shall report to you.” She gave a little smile, then turned and walked away.
She had intended to watch Voisey, possibly even to speak with him. As it was, he spoke to her.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Pitt.”
She swung around to find him standing a couple of yards behind her.
“Good afternoon, Sir Charles.” She caught her breath and had to clear her throat. She was annoyed with herself for being caught off-balance. “That was a very powerful speech you made.”
His eyes widened so very slightly she was not sure if she imagined it. “You are interested in the issue of arming the police, Mrs. Pitt? Your husband is in Special Branch now. Surely he can carry a gun any time he believes the occasion warrants it?” His voice dropped a little. “As in the siege in Long Spoon Lane. You must be very relieved he was not hurt. Unpleasant affair.” His eyes were hard, acutely self-aware. The hatred flared for an instant, and he knew he had not hidden it.
“Indeed,” she said, her voice very nearly level. “But it is the job of Special Branch to deal with unpleasant matters, and therefore very often also with unpleasant people.” She forced herself to smile at him, not because she imagined he might believe she meant it, but to show him that she was more in command of herself than he was. “I am so glad that you believe it is unwise, and unnecessary, to give the police more weapons or greater powers to search people without showing a proper cause for it. You are absolutely right in your conviction that the cooperation of ordinary people is the best help of all. That would serve everyone’s interests.”
He was studying her to read in her face if she had a deeper meaning or not. He was uncertain whether Pitt would confide in her, and for an instant she saw it in him.
“Not everyone’s, Mrs. Pitt,” he said quietly. “Yours and mine, perhaps. But there are others whose ambitions are different.”
“I am sure there are,” she agreed, then hesitated, not sure whether to let him know how far she understood.
He saw it, and smiled back at her. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Pitt. An unexpected pleasure to have seen you.” He excused himself and walked away briskly, leaving her with a strange feeling of being at a disadvantage, and the memory of the instant’s naked hate burned into her mind.
Vespasia racked her brains for an acceptable excuse to call upon Cordelia Landsborough again. They had never liked each other, and no one of the least sensitivity visited the newly bereaved unless they were invited. There was only one issue that could