Southampton Row - Anne Perry [60]
If she were to help Charlotte and Thomas again it would be a hard reminder of the urgencies of life and the realities. It would force her to test her beliefs in a way merely thinking never could. She was afraid of it, and for that very reason she also was impelled towards it. Charlotte was away somewhere in Dartmoor. Emily did not have the exact address; Thomas had been very vague. But she would go and see Rose Serracold herself and learn a great deal more about the death of this spirit medium she had been involved with—Maude Lamont.
She dressed in an outdoor costume in the latest fashion from Paris. It was shell pink with broad diagonal stripes of lavender across the skirt, and a white ruff high at the throat. The soft colors were unusual, and remarkably flattering to her.
She made all her duty calls to wives of men with whom it was important to maintain a steady, close connection. She talked about the weather, the trivial news, exchanging compliments and meaningless chatter all afternoon, knowing that the message beneath the words was what mattered.
Then she was free to pursue the questions that had been at the back of her mind since breakfast. She finally gave her coachman instructions to go to the Serracolds’ home. Received by the footman, she was shown into the sun-filled conservatory, heavy with the smell of wet earth and leaves and falling water. She found Rose sitting alone staring at the lily pool. She too was dressed as if for calling, in dramatic olive green and white lace, which with her flaxen hair and extraordinarily slender body made her look as if she were some exotic water flower herself.
But as Emily came closer and Rose looked up, Emily saw the tension in Rose stretching the silk of her gown until it hung without her usual extravagant elegance.
“Emily, I’m so pleased to see you!” she said with relief spreading across her face. “I would not have let anyone else in, I swear it!” Her expression crumpled into one of bewilderment. “Maude Lamont has been killed! I suppose you know that; it was in the newspapers. It happened two days ago . . . I was there! At least I was in the house that evening. Emily, I’ve had the police here this afternoon. I don’t know how to tell Aubrey. What am I going to say?”
This was a time for practicality, not gentleness. If she were to learn anything of value, she could not afford to allow Rose to dominate the conversation. She went straight to the first subject which really mattered. “Did Aubrey not know you were seeing a spiritualist?”
Rose shook her head fractionally, the light gleaming on the polished sheen of her hair.
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“Because he wouldn’t have liked it!” Rose said immediately. “He doesn’t believe.”
Emily thought about it for a moment. There was a lie in it, a concealment. She was not sure what it was, but she was quite certain it had to do with Rose’s reason for going.
“He would find it a little embarrassing,” Rose explained unnecessarily, looking down at the floor, but with a very slight smile on her lips.
“But you went anyway,” Emily pointed out. “Even now, just before the election. Which means you had a reason for going that was so strong it outweighed Aubrey’s wishes, and any damage it might do him, or he would think it might. Are you really so sure of his winning?” She tried to sound sympathetic and to keep out of her voice the impatience she felt at such naive arrogance.
Rose’s eyebrows lifted suddenly. She was about to answer, then the words died on her lips. “I thought I was,” she said instead. Then her voice became urgent. “Do . . . do you think this could make any difference? I didn’t kill her! Please