Seven Dials - Anne Perry [117]
It was another three days before he docked at Southampton, and then a train journey back to London which was in truth less than two hours but seemed to drag to the very last minute.
By seven o’clock he was on the doorstep of Narraway’s office, determined to leave a note if there was no one in, but wishing intensely to say all he had to tonight, and go home to sleep as long as he wanted, luxuriously, in all that was sweet and gentle and long-loved, without the need to trouble his mind with what he must say or do in the morning.
But Narraway was in and there was no escape from reporting in person. He leaned back in his chair when Pitt was inside and the door had closed behind him. His stare was penetrating but guarded, already prepared to defend against a returning enquiry.
Pitt was too tired, both physically and emotionally, to pretend to any form of etiquette. He sat down opposite him and stretched out his legs. His feet hurt and he was cold with exhaustion and the sudden chill of English October.
Narraway simply waited for Pitt to speak.
“She is a highly intelligent, literate, and well-educated woman of Christian descent,” Pitt said. “But an Egyptian patriot who cared very much for the poor in her country and for the injustice of foreign domination.”
Narraway pursed his lips and made his fingers into a steeple, his elbows on the arms of his chair. “So a woman coming for a political end, not merely to make her own fortune,” he said without surprise. His expression did not alter in the slightest. “Did she imagine that she could affect the cotton industry through Ryerson?”
“It seems so,” Pitt answered.
Narraway sighed, his face now filled with sadness. “Naive,” he murmured.
Pitt had a powerful feeling that Narraway was speaking of far more than simply Ayesha Zakhari’s ignorance of political inevitability. He sat back in his chair as if at ease, and yet his body was not relaxed. There was a tension within him which was palpable in the room. “You said well educated. In what?” he demanded.
“History, languages, her own culture,” Pitt replied. “Her father was a learned man, and she was his only child. Apparently he found her an excellent companion and taught her much of what he knew.”
Narraway’s face tightened. He seemed to understand far more from Pitt’s words than the simple facts they referred to. Was he thinking that she was brought up in the intellectual company of an older man, that it was comfortable to her and she was used to both the advantages, and perhaps the disadvantages as well? Pitt wondered if it had been a training for her which enabled her to charm Ryerson without ever seeming to be too young, too unsophisticated, too impatient? Or was it the forming of a woman for whom young men were unsubtle, shallow and with whom she was ill at ease? Could she actually be as much in love with Ryerson as he believed?
Then why on earth would she have shot Lovat? Had Pitt missed something critical in Alexandria after all?
Narraway was watching him. He said abruptly, “What is it, Pitt?” He was leaning forward. His hand was shaking slightly.
Pitt was intensely aware of currents of emotion far beyond the facts he could see. He hated working with a superior who obviously trusted him so little, whatever the reason. Was it for his safety? Or someone else’s? Or was Narraway protecting something in himself that Pitt could not even guess at?
“Nothing that seems to have any relevance to Lovat, or to Ryerson,” he answered the question. “She was a passionate follower of one of the Orabi revolutionists, an older man. She fell in love with him, and he betrayed both her and the cause. It was a bitter hurt to bear.”
Narraway drew in a long, deep breath and let it out silently. “Yes.” The single word was all he said.
For seconds Pitt waited, sure Narraway would say more. There seemed to be sentences, paragraphs in his mind, just beyond reach.
But when he did speak, it was a change of subject. “What about Lovat?” he asked. “Did you find anyone who knew him? There must be something more than the written records we have here. For