Paragon Walk - Anne Perry [91]
“Well, how are we going to find out?” Charlotte said immediately. The thought of not trying to discover never occurred to her.
Emily had also taken it for granted.
“I’ve worked it out, from all the things everyone has said.” She got down to business now, decisions made in her mind. “And I’m almost certain it is something to do with the Dilbridges, at least, with Freddie Dilbridge. I don’t know who is involved and who isn’t, except that Phoebe knows, and it terrifies her. But the Dilbridges are having a garden party in ten-days’ time. George doesn’t approve, but I mean to go, and you are coming, too. We shall break away from the party without being noticed and explore the house. If we are clever enough, we shall find something. If there is real wickedness in that place, it will have left something behind. Maybe we’ll discover whatever it was that Miss Lucinda saw? It has to be there.”
Memories of Fulbert’s charred body slithering down the chimney flashed into Charlotte’s mind. It would be a long time before she wished to poke into other people’s rooms in search of answers, but then, on the other hand, neither could she possibly leave the question unanswered.
“Good,” she said firmly. “What shall I wear?”
Ten
CHARLOTTE WENT TO the garden party feeling marvelous. Emily, high on the wave of her own well-being, had given her a new dress, all white muslin and lace, with tiny pin tucks at the yoke. She felt like daisies in the wind of a summer field, or the white foam of a mountain stream, inexpressible, shimmeringly clean.
Everyone in the Walk was there, even the Misses Horbury, as though they were making a determined effort to put everything sordid or tragic behind them, firmly in the past, and for a hot, still afternoon totally to forget it.
Emily was gowned in spring green, her best color, and she positively radiated delight.
“We are going to find out what it is,” she said softly to Charlotte, gripping her by the arm as they walked across the grass toward Grace Dilbridge. “I haven’t made up my mind yet whether she knows or not. I’ve been listening very carefully to everyone the last few days, and I rather think Grace doesn’t wish to know, so she has made sure not to find out by accident.”
Charlotte remembered what Aunt Vespasia had said about Grace and her enjoyment in being put upon. Perhaps if she discovered the secret, it would be too appalling for her to find any pleasure in it anymore. After all, if one’s husband sinned in an average way, only slightly more openly than most, one could be expected to endure it gracefully and be sympathized with. One’s social position would not be jeopardized. But if the sin were extraordinary, something unacceptable, then one would be required to take action, even perhaps to leave—and that was altogether another matter. A woman who leaves her husband, for whatever reason, is not only financially a disaster, but socially quite beyond condoning. Invitations simply cease.
They were now in front of Grace Dilbridge, who was looking rather a poor color, in a purple that did not suit her. It was far too hot a shade for such a heavy day. There were tiny thunder flies in the air, and it was difficult not to forget one’s manners and brush them away quite violently, as they itched the skin and caught in one’s hair in a most unpleasant sensation.
“How charming to see you, Mrs. Pitt,” Grace said automatically. “I’m so delighted you were able to come. How well you look, Emily, my dear.”
“Thank you,” they both replied together, then Emily went on, “I had no idea your garden was so large. How lovely it is. Does it extend beyond that hedge also?”
“Oh, yes, there is a herbaceous walk, and a small rose garden.” Grace waved an arm. “I have sometimes wondered if we should try growing peaches on that south facing wall, but Freddie won’t hear of it.”
Emily’s elbow poked Charlotte, and Charlotte knew she was thinking of the garden room. It must be somewhere behind that hedge.
“Indeed,” Emily said with polite interest. “I do love peaches.