Southampton Row - Anne Perry [54]
Pitt was puzzled.
“What were the answers?”
There was a flash of humor in her eyes. “That he was asking things that it was not yet his time to know. That is what I would have answered him had I been the spirit!”
“You disliked him?” he asked. She was sharp in her observation, critical, opinionated, and yet there was a vitality in her that was extraordinarily attractive and her humor appealed to him.
“Frankly, yes.” She looked down at the rich silk of her skirt. “He was a frightened man. But we are all frightened of something, if you have any imagination at all, or anything you care about.” She raised her eyes and met his. “That does not give you a reason or an excuse to mock the needs of others.” A shadow crossed her eyes, as if instantly she had regretted being too candid with him. She stood up and in a graceful movement turned away, keeping her back half towards Pitt and completely towards Tellman. It obliged them both to stand also.
“Unfortunately, I cannot tell you who he was or where to find him,” she said quietly. “I regret very much now that I ever went there. It seemed harmless at the time, an exploration of knowledge, a little daring. I believe passionately in freedom of the mind, Mr. Pitt. I despise censorship, the curtailment of learning . . . for anyone at all!” Her voice had a completely different tone; there was no banter in it now, no guard. “I would have absolute freedom of religion built into the law, if I could. We have to behave in a civilized fashion, respect each other’s safety—and property, too, I suppose. But no one should set bounds to the mind, above all to the spirit!” She swiveled around, staring at Pitt with color back in her face at last, her chin high and her marvelous eyes blazing.
“And was this third man trying to do that, Mrs. Serracold?” Pitt asked.
“Don’t be naive!” she said tartly. “We spend half the energy in our lives trying to dictate what other people will think! That is mostly what the church is about. Don’t you listen?”
Pitt smiled. “Are you trying to destroy my belief in it, Mrs. Serracold?” he enquired innocently.
The color glowed up her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “It is just that one person’s freedom so easily tramples upon another’s. Why did you go to Miss Lamont? Whom did you wish to contact?”
“Why is it your business, Mr. Pitt?” She gestured for him to sit down again.
“Because she was murdered either while you were there or shortly after you left,” he answered, relaxing back into the chair and seeing Tellman do the same.
Her body stiffened. “I have no idea who was responsible for that,” she said almost under her breath. “Except that it was not I.”
“I have been told that you wanted to contact your mother. Is that not true?”
“Who told you?” she demanded. “The soldier?”
“Why should he not? You told me he wished to contact his son, to learn how he died.”
“Yes,” she conceded.
“What was it you wished to learn from your mother?”
“Nothing!” she said instantly. “I simply wanted to speak with her. Surely that is natural enough?”
Tellman did not believe her, and he knew by the way Pitt’s hands stayed motionless and stiff on his knees that he did not, either. But he did not challenge her.
“Yes, of course it is,” Pitt agreed. “Have you visited other spirit mediums?”
She waited so long that her hesitation was obvious, and she gave a slight gesture of capitulation. “No. I admit that, Mr. Pitt. I didn’t trust anyone until I met Miss Lamont.”
“How did you meet her, Mrs. Serracold?”
“She was recommended to me,” she said, as if surprised that he should ask.
His interest quickened. He hoped it did not show in his face. “By whom?”
“Do you imagine it matters?” she parried.
“Will you tell me, Mrs. Serracold, or do I have to enquire?”
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
“That would be embarrassing! And unnecessary.” She was angry. There were two spots of color high on her smooth cheekbones. “As far as I can recall, it was Eleanor Mountford. I don’t remember how she heard of her. She was really very famous, you know—Miss Lamont, I mean.”
“She had a lot of clients