The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [100]
She hated Charlotte for having exposed her to the truth. “You are not strong, Charlotte,” she said viciously in answer to the question. “You are hard. That is why Dominic chose Sarah, and not you!” She searched for something that would hurt even more. “No man will ever love you. You are totally unfeminine. Even that wretched policeman only admires you because he is vulgar and doesn’t know the qualities of a lady. He imagines that he could better himself through you. And, of course, even if you accepted him—it might well be the only offer you get—you would not raise him to your social station. He was born common and he will remain common. You would sink to his station. Which may very well be where you belong!”
Charlotte’s face was white. “You’re a vicious and ugly old woman,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t be surprised if Grandpapa kept a mistress as well, to get away from you. Perhaps she was someone gentle. Perhaps that’s where Papa learnt it. He may not be so very much to blame. That’s something I’ve learned from your vulgar policeman; how much our parents make us what we are, how they influence not only our education, our wealth or poverty, our social standing, but our beliefs as well. When I look at you, I realize maybe Papa is not as much at fault as I thought.”
And with that she turned and went out the door, leaving Grandmama gasping for breath, her throat tight, her stays digging into her like knives. She cried out for help, hoping instinctively to elicit pity, but Charlotte had closed the door.
Luncheon was awful. It was eaten in almost total silence, and afterwards everyone made separate excuses to leave as soon as possible. Emily said she was going out to the dressmaker’s and would Mama accompany her, to prevent her being in the streets alone? Grandmama gave a vicious look to Charlotte and said she was retiring upstairs, as she felt profoundly unwell. Sarah expressed a desire to visit Martha Prebble, a sympathetic and virtuous woman. The vicar’s house might be a little self-consciously righteous, but freedom from carnal thoughts and the sins of the flesh were coming to appeal to her more and more.
“Sarah, you should not go alone,” Charlotte said quickly. “Do you wish me to come with you?” It was the last thing she wanted to do, but recently she had felt closer to Sarah than at any time since Dominic had first come to the house and she had been barely more than a child. She ached for Sarah’s sense of loss, her disappointment and shock. She felt some of it herself, because she too had loved Dominic. But for her the commitment was different, and she was amazed at herself for finding it so easy to recover. She feared her love had been a great deal shallower than she had imagined, a love based not on any knowledge but on her fancy. For Sarah it was different; hers was the loss of intimacy, of things shared, of fact, not dreams.
Sarah was looking at her. “No, thank you,” she said with the best smile she could manage. “I know how you dislike the vicar, and he may well be home. And if he is not, I would rather like to talk to Martha alone.”
“I’ll come and leave you at the door, if you like?” Charlotte pressed.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Then you would have to walk back alone. I shall be perfectly safe. I think perhaps this madman has gone anyway. Nothing has happened for ages. We were probably wrong. Probably he did come from the slums, and has now gone back to them.”
“Inspector Pitt didn’t think so.” Charlotte half stood up.
“Are you as taken with him as he is with you?” Emily raised her eyebrows. “He is not infallible, you know!”
“I shall go straight to the vicar’s,