Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [98]
“No.” He struggled to keep some remnant of clarity in his mind. He looked at her earnest face so close to his, the soft hair and anxious eyes. He could feel the warmth of her skin and smell faint lavender and soap. He felt his emotions welling up out of control. He had so very nearly lost it all, this room with its smells of cooking and clean linen, the familiar china on the dresser, the scrubbed table, was home. Most of all she mattered overwhelmingly.
“You couldn’t!” Charlotte was frightened, he could hear it in her voice. “Why not? What’s wrong with the proof? You said it was all right at the time!”
“It is all right.” He blinked, trying to stay awake. “I couldn’t convict her, because I really don’t believe she knew it was going to poison him.”
“That isn’t the point!” She was working very hard to keep her patience. “You wouldn’t do it, but you could! The evidence is good enough. After all, she did give him the poison!”
“I don’t believe she knew that.” He was having difficulty keeping his eyes open.
She straightened up. “That doesn’t matter. Where is it?”
“What? Where is—oh.” He realized that she meant the evidence. “It’s in the tallboy in the bedroom. It’s perfectly safe. Don’t be afraid. I won’t tell Voisey where it is, or that I wouldn’t actually use it.” If he were honest, he did not believe Voisey was unaware of that, but he could not be sure.
“Go to bed,” she said gently. “It doesn’t matter tonight. Come on.” She held out her hands as if to pull him to his feet.
He made an effort and stood up. He was warm now, and the idea of bed seemed exquisitely sweet.
Pitt was late leaving Keppel Street in the morning. He did not even wake up until half past nine. He washed, dressed, had an extremely hasty breakfast, and was on his way to see Narraway by ten minutes after ten.
As soon as he was out of sight, Charlotte also left the house, but going in the opposite direction. She took a hansom to Curzon Street, giving the driver Voisey’s address. She hoped he had not already left for Westminster, but the House did not sit until the afternoon, so there was a good chance he hadn’t gone yet. Moreover, she was hopeful that the previous night’s events on the river should have left him as exhausted as they had Pitt and herself. Of course it was possible he might have gone to Parliament early in hope of meeting with members before the sitting, but they also were likely to arrive later. It was only quarter to eleven, and she could not have come sooner.
She steeled her nerve so that when the manservant opened the door she appeared composed, even though her heart was lurching inside her.
“Good morning, madam,” he said politely, with only the slightest lift of surprise in his voice.
“Good morning,” she answered. “My name is Mrs. Pitt. Sir Charles knows my husband quite well. They were involved in a matter of great importance yesterday evening. It was very dangerous, in the end, and I am sure when Sir Charles arrived home he was cold and exhausted.” She said it so the man would know she spoke the truth about her acquaintance with Voisey. “A situation has arisen which requires that I speak with Sir Charles before he goes to Westminster, if it is possible. I hope I am not too late.”
The manservant’s face was now clear of suspicion; in fact, he looked almost friendly. “Indeed, Mrs. Pitt,” he replied graciously. “A most appalling event. I hope Mr. Pitt is recovered?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“If you would care to come in, I shall inform Sir Charles that you are here. He is taking breakfast at the moment.” He stepped back and opened the door wide so she could enter.
“Thank you,” she accepted, following him across the hallway to a formal but very pleasant morning room.
She looked around with interest.