Southampton Row - Anne Perry [51]
Should he write to her while she was away?
That was a difficult question. Charlotte had taught her to read, but only fairly recently. Might the necessity of replying be an embarrassment to her? Worse, if there were something she could not read, might she show his letter to Charlotte? The thought made him cringe with embarrassment. No! Definitely he would not write. Better not to take the risk. And perhaps better not to have her address written anywhere—just in case.
He still had the scrapbook open when Rose Serracold came in at last and both he and Pitt stood to attention. Tellman did not know what kind of a person he had been expecting, but not the striking woman who stood in the doorway dressed in lilac and navy stripes with huge sleeves and a tiny waist. Her ash-fair hair was dressed in an unusually straight style, swirled around on her head rather than piled in curls, her azure-blue eyes very pale, staring at them both in surprise.
“Good morning, Mrs. Serracold,” Pitt said after the first moment’s silence. “I am sorry to intrude upon you without notice, but the tragic circumstances of Miss Maude Lamont’s death didn’t allow me the time to seek an appointment. I realize you must be very busy during the parliamentary election, but this will not wait.” There was a steel in his tone which cut off argument.
She stood strangely motionless, not even turning to notice Tellman, although she could not have been unaware of him only a few feet from her. She stared at Pitt. It was impossible to tell if she had already known of Maude Lamont’s death. When she spoke at last it was very softly.
“Indeed. And exactly what is it you think I can say that will help, Mr. . . . Pitt?” She was obviously remembering his name from what the butler had told her, but with an effort. It was not intended as rudeness, simply that he was not part of her world.
“You were one of the last people to see her alive, Mrs. Serracold,” Pitt replied. “And you also saw the others who were present at the séance, and must know what took place.”
If she wondered how Pitt was aware of that, she did not say so.
Tellman was curious to see how Pitt was going to speak to this woman to draw everything of use from her. They had not discussed it and he knew it was because Pitt was uncertain himself. She was part of his new role in Special Branch. Her husband was standing for Parliament. Pitt would not share with Tellman exactly what his task was, but Tellman guessed it was to keep her out of scandal, or if that proved to be impossible, then to deal with it discreetly, and perhaps rapidly. He did not envy him. Solving a murder was simple by comparison.
She raised elegant eyebrows very slightly. “I don’t know how she died, Mr. Pitt, or if anyone was responsible, or could have acted to prevent it.” Her voice was perfectly level but she was very pale and so still that the mastery of emotion in her could be judged simply by the absence of any sign. She dared not allow it to be seen.
Tellman was aware of a very slight air of perfume from her, and that were she to move he would hear the rustle of silks, as he had when she came in. She was a kind of woman who alarmed and disturbed him. He was acutely conscious of her presence, and he understood nothing of her life at all, her feelings or her beliefs.
“Someone was responsible.” Pitt’s voice cut across his thoughts.
She made no gesture to indicate that they should be seated.
“She was