Silence in Hanover Close - Anne Perry [148]
“I think she has been reading the newspapers,” Jack said hastily.
“Certainly not!” Charlotte lied with a touch of irony. “I heard it from a running patterer! It was quite unavoidable; he was crying it out all over the street. Apparently this marvelously beautiful woman led some poor diplomat into revealing secrets, and then betrayed him. She was a spy.”
“Rubbish!” Felix said loudly. He stared straight at Charlotte, avoiding even the slightest glance at Harriet or her father. He might have wavered had he looked at Garrard—his face was so ghastly he seemed to be suffering some physical pain. “Rubbish!” Felix said again. “My dear Miss Barnaby, running patterers make their living by entertaining the masses. They invent half of it, you know.”
For a moment the tension eased. Charlotte could feel it slipping away. She must not lose it: the murderer was here at this shining dinner table with its silver and crystal and white flowers.
“But not out of nothing!” she argued. “People do fall passionately in love—so deeply they would forfeit everything, betray all the old loyalties.” She looked round at their faces as if she were appealing to them. Veronica was numb, her dark eyes enormous, absorbed with some inner horror—or was it fear at last? Was she after all the real Cerise, and was that why Garrard had known Charlotte was an imposter? He had just left Veronica in the withdrawing room. He said he came only because he feared blackmail, but if that were so, why did he not marry her himself? Or had she tired of him and chosen his son instead? Perhaps Julian was her mistake, her weakness—she had loved in return. Or was Julian simply a way into a more powerful position? He was destined for higher things than his father, perhaps even a cabinet position.
Did Loretta know that, or had she guessed? Her face was ashen, but it was Garrard she stared at, not Veronica. Piers was confused; he did not understand the meaning of what had been said, but he knew the fear and the passion that was in the air. He looked like a soldier readying himself to face enemy fire.
Harriet looked wretched, embarrassed, and Sonia was pale with defeat.
Aunt Adeline spoke. “Miss Barnaby,” she said quietly. “I am sure such things do happen, from time to time. If we are capable of great feeling of any sort, there is always the chance it may lead to tragedy. But does it serve any good end that we should delve into it? Have we a right to know other people’s griefs?”
Charlotte felt the blood hot in her cheeks. She liked Adeline and she doubted she would ever be forgiven this total hypocrisy and deceit. “Not tragedy,” she agreed a little less steadily. “Not if it concerns no one else. But treason concerns us all. It is our country, our people, who are betrayed.”
Harriet put her hands up to her face, white with horror.
“There was no treason!” Felix shouted. “Good God, any man can fall in love unwisely!”
Harriet drew her breath in a gasp of anguish so sharp it was audible to all of them.
Felix swung round. “Harriet—that’s all! I swear, I never betrayed anything!”
Garrard looked as if he had been struck. Veronica gaped at Felix, her mouth open, her eyes like sockets in her head.
“Felix, you—and Cerise?” Loretta started to laugh, at first a gurgle in her throat, then it rose higher till it was out of control, on the brink of hysteria. “You—and Cerise! Do you hear that, Garrard? Do you?”
Garrard shot to his feet, upsetting wine and water over the cloth.
“No!” he cried desperately. “It’s not true! For God’s sake, stop. Stop!”
Felix looked at him, appalled. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, staring past his wife to Harriet. “I’m sorry, Harriet. God knows I tried!”
“What?” Julian demanded. “What the hell are you all talking about? Felix!