Rutland Place - Anne Perry [54]
Memories flickered through Charlotte’s mind for a moment: the terrible corpse in the closed garden in Callander Square; and standing side by side with Emily, paralyzed with fright, when Paul Alaric found them at the end of the murders in Paragon Walk. Then she remembered the present again, and all the tingle and beating of the blood vanished.
“It is to do with Mama,” she said soberly. She served the soup and bread and sat down. “It will need salting. I forgot. Do you recall Monsieur Alaric?”
“Don’t be a fool!” Emily said with raised eyebrows. She reached for the salt and sprinkled a little. “How could I possibly forget him—even if he were not still my neighbor? He is one of the most charming men I have ever met. He can converse upon almost any subject as if he were interested. Why on earth does Society consider it fashionable to affect to be bored? It is really very tedious.” She smiled. “You know, I never really knew if he was aware quite how fascinated we all were by him, did you? How much do you think it was merely the challenge of his being a mystery, and that each of us wished to outdo the other by winning his attentions?”
“Only partly.” Charlotte had him so clearly in her mind even now, here in her own kitchen, it had to be something more than that. “He was able to laugh at us and yet at the same time make us believe that he liked us.”
“Indeed?” Emily’s eyes widened and her delicate nose flared a little. “I find that a most infuriating mixture. And I am perfectly sure that Selena at least desired of him a great deal more than simply to be ‘liked’! Friendship does not arouse that kind of excitement and discomfort in anyone!”
“He has become acquainted with Mama.” Charlotte hoped for a considerable reaction from Emily. She was disappointed: Emily was not interested.
“This soup is really rather nice with salt in it,” she remarked with surprise. “But I shall have to sit at the far side of the room and shout at everyone. You might have thought of that! What if Mama has met Monsieur Alaric? Society is very small.”
“Mama carries a picture of him in her locket.”
That had the desired effect. Emily dropped her spoon and stared, appalled.
“What did you say? I don’t believe it! She couldn’t be so—so idiotic!”
“She was.”
Emily shut her eyes in relief. “But she stopped!”
“No. The locket was lost—probably stolen. A lot of small things have been stolen from around Rutland Place—a silver buttonhook, a gold chain, a snuffbox.”
“But that’s awful!” Emily’s eyes were wide and dark with anguish. “Charlotte, it’s, simply dreadful! I know the servant problem is bad, but this is preposterous. One owes it to one’s friends to see at least that they are honest. What if someone finds this locket? And knows it is Mama’s with that—Frenchman—in it! What would they say? What would Papa think?”
“Exactly,” Charlotte said. “And now Mina Spencer-Brown is dead—probably murdered—almost next door to Mama. But she still doesn’t mean to stop seeing him. I’ve tried to dissuade her, and it has been exactly as if she had not heard me.”
“Haven’t you pointed out to her—” Emily began incredulously.
“Of course I have!” Charlotte cut her off before she could finish. “But did you ever take any notice of advice when you were in love?”
Emily’s face fell. “Don’t be ridiculous! What on earth do you mean, ‘in love’? Mama is fifty-two! And she is married—”
“That’s just years,” Charlotte said sharply, waving away the unimportance of time with her soup spoon. “I don’t suppose one feels any different.