The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [109]
But Papa was quite different. There were obviously hungers in him that none of them had recognized before. And he had been either unwilling or unable to prevent himself from satisfying them.
Was the woman in Cater Street the only one? She was an old woman now, according to Sarah. When Papa had finished with her, who had replaced her? That was something that she thought had not occurred to the others.
But it occurred to Emily as she sat sewing in the afternoon, and she wondered if it would occur to Pitt when he found out, which he undoubtedly would, either from some gossip in the neighbourhood about Sarah’s visit, or from some slip of the tongue by one of the servants, or possibly even from Charlotte. She was about as transparent as water! Or perhaps he had even been to speak to the woman himself. He might be inelegant, and of very ordinary birth, but he was far from stupid.
Anyway, Emily thought, she had better accustom herself to thinking well of him, because no doubt he would have the courage to make an offer for Charlotte, and she might well take him if she had the courage and the sense. Papa would hum and haw, and Grandmama would have a fit, but that did not matter.
Unless of course Papa really had done something more serious than keep a mistress, or even a series of mistresses? In which case they would all be ruined and the question of marriage to anyone would be moot. Surely he could not have? She could not really believe it, but neither could she dismiss the fear from the back of her mind until she had done something about it. She knew that he was alone in the library. The abominable vicar would be duty-bound to call some time today or tomorrow, now that the police had gone, for the time being at least. Better to get this over with.
Edward looked up with surprise when she went into the library. “Emily? Are you seeking something to read?”
“No,” she sat down in the other big leather chair opposite him.
“What then? You find it hard to be alone? I confess, I’m glad of your company also.”
She smiled very slightly. This was going to be harder than she had anticipated.
“Papa?”
“Yes, my dear?” How very tired he looked. She had forgot how old he was.
“Papa, the woman in Cater Street—how long is it since she was your mistress?” Better to be direct. She could be devious with most people, but she had never been able to deceive him with any success.
“How very like Charlotte you are at times,” he smiled with profound regret, and she knew instinctively he was thinking neither of her nor of Charlotte, but of Sarah.
“How long?” she repeated. It had to be got over now; to have to try again would only extend the pain.
He looked at her. Was he weighing up how much she knew? Whether even now he could lie, evade?
“We know about her,” she said cruelly. “Sarah went to visit her, as a charity. She discovered the truth. Please Papa, don’t make it worse?” Her voice wavered. She hated doing this, but the doubt hurt even more. The suspense was a cancer deeper than the clean wound of knowing. She must not let him lie now, degrade himself.
He was still looking at her. She wanted to shut her eyes, to withdraw the question, but she knew it was too late.
He gave in. “A long time,” he answered with a little sigh. “It was all very brief, that part of it. It was all over a year or two after you were born. But I still liked her. Your mother was often busy—with you. You didn’t know her then, but she was not unlike Sarah; a little stubborn, always thinking she knew best.” Suddenly his eyes filled with tears and Emily looked away, to save him embarrassment. She stood up and walked to the window, to give him time to regain his control.
“Was there anyone after her?” she asked. Better to get it all over in one attempt.
“No,” he sounded surprised. “Of course not! Why do you