The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [112]
There was no answer to that, so Charlotte returned to the first question.
“I have no idea, but I would have thought it appropriate to speak with my brother-in-law, at least to begin with.” She was delighted to find some point of propriety on which to correct him. “If he feels unable to do so, then, of course, I’m sure Papa will deal with the matter.”
The vicar endeavoured to hide his annoyance. He smiled, showing his teeth, but his cheeks coloured faintly and his eyes were hard.
“Of course,” he agreed. “I had thought, perhaps—an older man—the grief—”
“It may quite possibly be so,” Charlotte was not about to give him the slightest victory. She smiled also, equally coldly. “But it would be an added unkindness not to consult him, an unnecessary rudeness, I feel?”
The muscles along the vicar’s face tightened.
“Have the police made even the slightest progress towards discovering the perpetrator of these horrendous crimes? I understand you are—somewhat close—to one of the—policemen.” He invested the last word with the same tone he might have used for rat catchers or those who remove the kitchen waste. There was a gleam of pleasure in his eyes.
“I don’t know whom you can have been listening to, Vicar, to gather such an impression.” Charlotte looked him straight in the face. “Have the servants been talking?”
The colour washed up his face in a wave of anger.
“I do not listen to servants, Miss Ellison! And I take it unkindly that you should suggest such a thing. I am not some gossiping woman!”
“It was not intended as an insult, Vicar,” Charlotte lied without the slightest qualm. “Since I am a woman myself, I would not have chosen that phrase in order to be derogatory.”
“Indeed, of course not,” he said tartly. “God made woman, as He made man—the weaker vessel, of course, but still the creation of the Almighty.”
“I understood everything was the creation of God,” Charlotte was going to push every prick home. “But it is indeed comforting to be reminded that we are. To answer your question, I am not aware that the police have made any further discoveries in the course of their investigations, but of course it is not incumbent on them to advise me if they have.”
“I see the whole matter has preyed upon your mind.” The vicar altered his tone to one of sententiousness. “Quite natural. It is far too great a burden for one of your tender birth and years to bear. You must lean upon the church, and put your trust in the Lord Almighty to help you through this crisis. Read your Bible every day; you will find great comfort in it. Observe its commandments diligently, and it will bring joy to your soul even through the darkest vicissitudes of this vale of tears.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte said drily. She had hitherto enjoyed her Bible, but this was quite enough to sour it for her. “I will pass on your advice. I am sure we shall all benefit from it.”
“And never fear that the wicked shall escape punishment. If they do not meet the justice of this world, then God’s vengeance will catch up with them in the eternities, and they shall perish in hell fire! The wages of sin is death. The lusts of the flesh consume in everlasting fire the souls of the wicked and no man shall escape. No, not the least thought that pursues the pleasures of the flesh shall go unknown in the great judgement!”
Charlotte shivered. She found the idea of comfort in such a philosophy appalling. She had thoughts she was ashamed of, hungers and dreams she would far rather were not known, and as she needed her own forgiven, she would forgive another’s.
“Surely thoughts that are controlled,” she said hesitantly, “and not acted upon—”
Martha looked up suddenly, her face white, the muscles in her jaw clenching. Her voice was rough when she spoke, as if it would not entirely obey her.
“All sin is sin, my dear. The thought is father to the wish, and the wish father to the deed. Therefore