Silence in Hanover Close - Anne Perry [118]
“Mama has taken the children. It will be easier for them, and for me. Gracie is wonderful. I sent a letter to Emily. Jack Radley took it to her. I asked her to stay where she is—don’t argue with me. It is the only way we shall learn anything.”
“Charlotte, you must be careful!” He leaned forward, then as the jailer stepped towards them, realized the uselessness of it. “You must get Emily out of there—it’s too dangerous!” he said urgently. “Someone has already killed three times to keep the silence over what happened that night in Hanover Close. You mustn’t go again. Send a letter to say you are sick, or that you’re going back to the country. That would be better. Promise me! Leave it to Ballarat, he’ll handle it now. They haven’t told me who he’s put on the case, but whoever it is will come and see me, and I’ll tell him all I know. We must be getting close for them to have killed Cerise. Promise me, Charlotte!”
Her hesitation was only momentary. She would defend him in whatever manner necessary, and by whatever means she could find. She did not stop to think, or weigh judgment, any more than she would have done had Daniel or Jemima been in the street in front of a runaway horse. It was as instinctive as gasping for breath when the water closes over your head.
“Yes, Thomas, of course,” she lied without a flicker. “Emily will stay with me for a while, or I’ll stay with her. Don’t worry about any of us, we’ll be perfectly all right. Anyway, I’m sure Mr. Ballarat won’t take long to discover the truth. He must know perfectly well that you couldn’t have killed Cerise. Whyever should you?”
Some of the fear eased out of his face and he tried to smile. “Good,” he said quietly. “At least I know you’re all right. Thank you for your promise.”
There was no time for guilt; the hangman waited. She smiled back. “Of course,” she said with a gulp. “Don’t worry about us.”
10
EMILY WATCHED THE ashes of Charlotte’s letter crumbling in the morning room fire and felt a numbness, a sense of disbelief invade her mind. It was impossible. Thomas arrested for murder and imprisoned—it was absurd! Any moment now reality would reassert itself. She should not have burned the letter; she must have misread it. She looked at the red hollow in the coals where the paper had collapsed. There were only little incandescent folds left, and even as she watched, the draft caught them and they shivered to pieces and were consumed.
The door opened behind her and the butler came in.
“Are you all right, Amelia?” he said gently. There was concern in his voice, even something close to a personal tenderness. Dear God! She could not be coping with that now!
“Yes thank you, Mr. Redditch,” she said gravely. “My sister has been taken ill.”
“Yes, so Mr. Radley said. It was very good of him to come. Lady Ashworth must think most highly of you. What is it your sister suffers from?”
She had not even thought of that. “I don’t know,” she answered helplessly. “The—the doctors don’t know—that’s what is so worrying. Thank you for letting me have Saturday afternoon. It’s very good of you.”
“Not at all, my dear girl. Edith can cover for you; goodness knows you’ve covered for her often enough! Now you go into the kitchen and sit down. Take a cup of tea and recover yourself.” He touched her arm gently, and his hands were warm.
“Thank you, Mr. Redditch,” she said quickly. “Sir.”
He stepped back reluctantly. “If there is anything I can do, please feel you may ask,” he added.
She wanted to thank him, to smile and meet his eyes, let him know his kindness was not unnoticed, but she dared not. It might only cause more hurt in the end.
“I will, sir,” she said, looking down at her apron. “And I’ll go and get a cup of tea, as you said. Thank you.” And she hurried past him out into the hall, through the baize door and into the kitchen.
She sat in the kitchen with the large round teacup in her hands, her mind whirling as she tried to think what to do. Her first instinct was to rush to Charlotte to be with