Pentecost Alley - Anne Perry [135]
“Yes, that makes sense,” Charlotte acquiesced, although it would be hard to master her impatience until then. “We must get some sure evidence of Finlay’s having been at this wretched party,” she went on. “If we can at least prove his innocence of the first crime, then we can prove the reason Thomas didn’t prosecute him was that he knew he was innocent, and that who he was had nothing to do with it.”
They were in Emily’s favorite room, the small sitting room which opened into the garden, with moss-green carpet and yellow floral curtains. It always seemed to feel warm, whether the sun was shining or not. There was a vase of chrysanthemums on the low rosewood table.
“The next thing,” she continued, “will be to find out who could have killed both women. They lived near enough to each other, they might have known some of the same people.” She bit her lip, caught between suppressing the fear—not giving it words—and the slight comfort of sharing it.
“Do you suppose it’s another lunatic, Emily?”
“Not unless I have to,” Emily said with a bleak smile. “Let’s try to clear Finlay first. And have some luncheon. We can plan what we are going to say. Better to be prepared, and hunger won’t help.”
They arrived in Devonshire Street at a quarter past four, and were received by Tallulah in her own boudoir, the sitting room specifically for ladies. She was delighted to see Emily, but taken aback when she saw that she was accompanied by someone else, and a stranger.
“My sister, Charlotte,” Emily introduced them. “I was sure you would not mind my bringing her. She is most resourceful, and I thought she might help us with the dilemma we face. She is already familiar with something of the circumstances.”
Tallulah looked a little startled. She had obviously not considered that Emily might have confided their situation to anyone else.
Emily ignored her expression and plunged on, looking innocent. “It has come to the stage when we must prove the matter once and for all.” She shook her head a little and her face was full of sympathy. “You are going to have to admit that you were at that wretched party and that you saw Finlay.”
“No one will believe me!” Tallulah said with exasperation, glancing at Charlotte nervously, then back to Emily again. They were all seated in small, floral-covered easy chairs, but Tallulah hunched herself uncomfortably on the edge of hers. “We’ve been over all that,” she protested. “If it would have been the slightest use, I would have said so in the beginning. Do you think I would have allowed Finlay to be suspected at all if I could have helped it? What kind of a person do you think I am?” Her eyes were very bright, as if filled with tears, and her hands were clenched in her lap.
Charlotte wondered whether it was Emily’s opinion which hurt her or some other, perhaps that of Jago Jones. There was so much they did not know about Tallulah, about Finlay, about all the emotions which seethed below the surface of polite exchanges between those who lived beneath one roof, who seemed to share so much of daily life, of heritage, of status in the world and in society, who had known each other all their lives and yet had so little idea of what mattered or what hurt.
Emily was thinking how to phrase her reply so it did not make a fragile situation worse.
“I think you are frightened for a brother you love,” she answered at length. “As I would be. I love my sister, and would do anything I could to save her from an unjust punishment.” She smiled apologetically. “I might even go to some lengths to mitigate a just one, were it necessary. As she would for me … as she has done.” She looked at Tallulah gently. “But because I care so much, I would also be unable to think as clearly as I might were it someone less close to me.”
She waited, watching Tallulah.
Slowly Tallulah relaxed. “Of course. I’m sorry. This is such a nightmare. And I have not been myself lately.” She looked at Emily, as if her last remark were not merely a figure of speech but something