Seven Dials - Anne Perry [37]
“To incriminate herself?” Pitt said with total disbelief.
Narraway’s face was twisted with bitterness. “We haven’t come to trial yet. Wait and see what she says then. So far, if Talbot’s telling the truth, she hasn’t said anything at all. What if she turns around and, with desperate reluctance, admits that Ryerson shot Lovat in a jealous rage?” His voice mimicked savagely the tone he imagined she would use. “She tried to conceal it, because she loves him and felt guilty for having provoked him—she knew he had an uncontrollable temper—but she cannot go on protecting him any longer, and will not hang for him.” His look challenged Pitt to prove him wrong.
Pitt was stunned. “What for?” he asked, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, hideous possibilities danced before him, violent, personal, political.
Narraway’s stare was withering. “She’s Egyptian, Pitt. Cotton comes to mind to begin with. We’ve got riots in Manchester over prices already. We want them down, Egypt wants them up. Ever since the American Civil War cut off our supply from the South and we’ve had to rely on Egypt, the balance has been different. European industry is catching up with us and we need the empire not only to buy from but to sell to.”
Pitt frowned. “Don’t we buy most of Egypt’s cotton anyway?”
“Of course we do!” Narraway said impatiently. “But a bargain that leaves one side unhappy serves neither in the end, because it doesn’t last. Ryerson is one of the few men who can both see further than a couple of years ahead and negotiate an agreement that will leave both the Egyptian growers and the British weavers feeling as if they have gained something.” His face tightened. “Apart from that, there’s Egyptian nationalism, and for God’s sake we don’t want to send the gunboats in again! We’ve bombarded Alexandria once in the last twenty years.” He ignored Pitt’s wince. “And there’s religious fervor,” he went on. “I hardly need to remind you of the uprising in the Sudan?”
Pitt did not reply; everyone remembered the siege of Khartoum and the murder of General Gordon.
“Other than that,” Narraway finished, “personal profit, or common or gender hatred. Do you need more?”
“Then we need to learn the truth before it comes to trial,” Pitt answered. “But I don’t know that it will help.”
“You must make it help!” Narraway said between his teeth, his voice thick with emotion. “If Ryerson is convicted, the government will have to replace him with either Howlett or Maberley. Howlett will give in to the mill workers here and drive the prices down so far it will break the Egyptians. We’ll have a few years of wealth and then disaster—poverty—Egypt will have no cotton to sell and no money to buy anything. Possibly even rebellion. Maberley will give in to the Egyptians and we’ll have riots all over the Midlands here, police forced to suppress them with violence, maybe even the army out.” He drew in breath to add more, then changed his mind and swung around with his back to Pitt.
“So far everything incriminates his woman, with Ryerson as a willing accomplice.” He jabbed the air with his hand. “We need another answer. Find out more about Lovat. Who else might have killed him? Who was he? What was his relationship with the woman? I suppose one might hope there was some justification for her killing him?” There was no lift of hope in him, and yet Pitt had the intense feeling that, beneath the bitterness, Narraway was clinging on to a thread of belief that there could be another, better explanation.
“You know Ryerson, sir,” Pitt began. “If the woman comes to trial, will he really allow himself to be implicated? If he has any kind of guilt, won’t he resign first, so at least he isn’t a government minister at the time?”
Narraway kept his back to him, his face hidden.
“Probably,” he agreed. “But I am not yet prepared to ask the man to do that until I can see beyond doubt that he has any guilt in Lovat’s death.” There was dismissal in