Seven Dials - Anne Perry [80]
“More about Saville Ryerson?” Vespasia said quietly. “I am not certain that I can help you. I wish I could.”
“Actually, about Mr. Ferdinand Garrick,” Charlotte corrected her.
Vespasia’s eyes widened. “Ferdinand Garrick? Don’t tell me that he has a connection with the Eden Lodge affair. That is absurd. So much so that it is about the only thing which could possibly redeem it from absolute tragedy. It would then become farce.”
Charlotte stared at her, uncertain how serious Vespasia was. She had a sharp and highly individual sense of humor which was no respecter of persons.
“Why?” she asked.
The expression on Vespasia’s face was sad, wry, and of slight distaste mixed with memory. “Ferdinand Garrick is what some people refer to as a ’muscular Christian,’ my dear,” she replied, and saw the answering comprehension in Charlotte’s face. “A man of ebullient and officious virtue,” she continued. “He eats healthily, exercises too much, enjoys being too cold, and makes everyone else in his establishment equally uncomfortable. He denies himself and everybody else, imagines himself closer to God for it. Like castor oil, he may on some occasions be right, but he is extremely difficult to like.”
Charlotte hid a smile.
“Actually, it has nothing to do with Mr. Ryerson,” she replied. “Thomas has gone to Alexandria to find out more about Ayesha Zakhari.”
Vespasia sat absolutely motionless. A couple of gentlemen strolled past, and both of them tipped their hats to her. She appeared not even to have seen them.
“Alexandria?” she murmured. “Good heavens! I presume Victor Narraway sent him? He could not possibly have gone otherwise. No, I apologize. That was a ridiculous question.” She breathed out very slowly. “So he is taking it all the way, after all. I am glad to hear it. When did he leave?”
“Four days ago,” Charlotte replied, surprised how much longer it seemed. Even though he was away from the house all day, the nights were horribly empty without him, as if she had forgotten to light the fires. The warmth and the heart of the home were gone. Did he miss her as much on the rare occasions she was away? She hoped fiercely that he did. “He should be there by now,” she added.
“Indeed he should,” Vespasia agreed. “He will find it extraordinarily interesting. I imagine it will not have changed a great deal, not at heart.” Her mouth pulled a little twistedly. “Although I have not been there since Mr. Gladstone saw fit to bombard it. That cannot have increased their affection for us. Not that that usually worries us overmuch. But Alexandria does not bear grudges. It simply absorbs whatever is sent there, like food, and transmutes it into another part of itself. It has done so to the Arabs, the Greeks, the Romans, the Armenians, the Jews, and the French—why not the British as well? We have something to offer, and it accepts everything. Its taste is magnificently eclectic. That is its genius.”
Charlotte would gladly have asked questions and listened to the answers all day, but with difficulty she forced her attention back to the only part of anything going on that she could possibly affect for good.
“I need to know something about Ferdinand Garrick because a friend of Gracie’s has a brother who has gone missing,” she explained.
“Gracie?” Vespasia’s interest was immediate. “That little maid of yours, the one with enough spirit for two girls twice her size? From where has the young man gone missing, and why does it concern Ferdinand Garrick, of all people? If he has dismissed a servant he will believe himself to have had an excellent reason, and there will be no arguing with him. He has irredeemably absolute ideas about virtue—and justice is a great deal higher in his estimation than mercy.”
“He hasn’t dismissed him,