Resurrection Row - Anne Perry [32]
Charlotte smiled into her chocolate cup. “I’m sure she must hate you soundly, even if you never say anything at all about it. No doubt part of her remembers the truth. Poor Alicia. I suppose she is in a constant comparison, a moth to the memories of a butterfly?”
“Very well put.” Vespasia’s eyes glittered in appreciation. “If it were the old woman who had been killed, I would hardly have blamed her.”
“Did Alicia love Lord Augustus—I mean in the beginning?” Charlotte asked.
Vespasia gave her a long stare. “Don’t be ingenuous, Charlotte. You are not so long out of society as that! I dare say she was fond enough of him; he had no intolerable habits, so far as I am aware. He was a bore, but no more so than many men. He was not generous, but neither was he mean. He certainly kept her well enough. He seldom drank to excess, nor was he indecently sober.” She sipped at her chocolate and looked Charlotte straight in the eye. “But he was no match for young Dominic Corde, as I dare say you know for yourself!”
Charlotte felt the color sweep up her face. Vespasia could not possibly know of her infatuation with Dominic, unless Pitt had told her; or Emily? But they would not! Vespasia must know he had been her brother-in-law. Thomas would say so. She knew he liked Vespasia and would tell her that much of the truth.
Charlotte chose her words very slowly. To lie would be pointless and lose Vespasia’s regard. She made herself look up and smile.
“No, I should imagine not,” she answered lightly. “Especially if he was her father’s choice rather than her own. There is nothing to put one off anything like not having chosen it yourself, even if you might have liked it well enough otherwise.”
Vespasia’s smile lit up her face, going all the way to her eyes. “Then you did well, my dear. I’m sure Thomas Pitt was not your father’s choice!”
Charlotte found herself grinning, a tide of memories coming back to her; although to be fair, Papa had not fought her nearly as hard as might have been expected. Perhaps he was glad enough she had at last made a choice at all? But she had not come here merely to enjoy herself. She must get back to the purpose.
“Do you think the old lady could have hired someone to dig up Lord Augustus, just to spite Alicia?” she asked a little too bluntly. “Jealousy can be very obsessive, especially in someone who has nothing else to occupy herself with but the past. Perhaps she has even convinced herself it is true?”
“It may be true.” Vespasia weighed it in her mind. “Although I doubt it. Alicia does not seem to have the desperation in her actually to have murdered the old fool, even for Dominic Corde. But then, one seldom knows what fires may burn underneath a comparatively passive exterior. And perhaps Dominic is greedier than we think, or more urgently pressed by creditors. He dresses extremely well. I should think his tailor’s bill is no small matter.”
The thought was ugly, and Charlotte refused to entertain it. She knew she might well have to eventually—but not yet, not until they had tried every other answer.
“What possibilities are there, apart from that?” she said cheerfully.
“None that I know of,” Vespasia admitted. “I cannot imagine anyone else of his social acquaintance either hating him enough to kill him, or loving him enough to wish him avenged. He was not the sort of man to inspire passion of any sort.”
Charlotte could not give up. “Tell me about the other people in the Park.”
“There are several who would be of no interest to you; they are away for the winter. Of those who are here,