Paragon Walk - Anne Perry [89]
There were fewer hysterics than he had expected. Perhaps, after the discovery of Fulbert’s body, they were not entirely surprised. Perhaps they had no more emotion left. Then he went back upstairs to look at Hallam again and see if there were any letter, any explanation or confession. It did not take him long; it was in the bedroom on a small writing table. The pen and ink were still beside it. It was open and not addressed to anyone.
I did assault Fanny. I left Freddie’s party and went out into the garden, then into the street. I found Fanny there quite by chance.
It all began as a flirtation, weeks before that. She pursued it. I realize now she did not understand what she was doing, but at the time I was beyond thinking.
But I swear I did not kill her.
At least the day afterward I would have sworn it. The day after I was stunned as anyone.
Nor did I touch Selena Montague. I would have sworn that. I don’t even remember what I was doing that night. I was drinking. But I never cared for Selena; even drunk I would not have forced myself on her.
I’ve thought about it till my mind reeled. I’ve woken in the night cold with terror. Am I losing my mind? Did I stab Fanny without even knowing what I was doing?
I didn’t see Fulbert alive the day he was killed. I was out when he called, and when I came back my footman told me he had shown him upstairs. I found him in the green bedroom, but he was already dead, lying on his face with the wound in his back. But, so help me God, I don’t remember doing it.
I did hide him. I was terrified. I did not kill him, but I knew they would accuse me. I put him up the chimney. It was large, and I am a great deal bigger than Fulbert. He was surprisingly light when I picked him up, even though he was dead weight. It was awkward getting him into the cavern of it, but there are niches up there for the sweeps’ boys, and I managed it at last. I wedged him in. I thought he might stay there forever, if I locked the room off. I never thought of spring cleaning, and of Mrs. Heath having a master key.
Perhaps, I am mad. Maybe I killed both of them, and my brain is so clouded with darkness or disease I don’t know it. I am two people, one tormented, lonely, full of regrets, not knowing the other half, and haunted by terrors of it—the other God, or the devil knows what? A savage, a madman, killing again and again.
Death is the best thing for me. Life has nothing but forgetfulness in drink between terrors of my other self.
I am sorry about Fanny, truly sorry. That I know I did.
But, if I killed her, or Fulbert, it was my other self, a creature I don’t know, but he will at least die with me.
Pitt put it down. He was used to feeling pity, the wrench inside of a pain one could not reach, for which there was no balm.
He walked back onto the landing. There were police coming in at the front door. Now there would be the long ritual of surgeon’s examination, search of his belongings, recording of the confession, such as it was. It gave him no sense of accomplishment.
He told Charlotte about it in the evening when he got home, not because he felt any ease over it, but because it concerned Emily.
For several moments she said nothing, then she sat down very slowly.
“Poor creature.” She let out her breath quietly. “Poor haunted creature.”
He sat down opposite her, looking at her face, trying to close Hallam and everything else to do with Paragon Walk out of his mind. For a long time there was silence, and it became easier. He began to think of things they might do, now that the case was over and he would have some time off. Jemima was big enough not to take cold; they might go for a trip up the river on one of the excursion boats, even pack a picnic and sit on the back and eat, if the weather stayed so fine. Charlotte would enjoy that. He could picture her now, her skirts spread