The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [27]
“At least he had the discretion not to come in daylight,” Emily whispered to Charlotte. “Poor Sarah’s frying!”
“Don’t be spiteful,” Charlotte whispered back, although silently she agreed, and she knew Emily knew it.
“You believe it was him, do you, Mrs. Corde?” Pitt raised his eyebrows.
“Of course! Who else would it be?”
“Who indeed?”
“I think it’s perfectly obvious,” Edward found his tongue again. “They had some sort of lovers’ quarrel, and he lost his temper and strangled her. We’ll make all the arrangements for the funeral, of course. But I don’t think you need to bother us again. Maddock can tell you anything else you need to know of a practical nature.”
“Not strangled, sir, garotted.” Pitt held his hands up, pulling tight an invisible wire. “With a wire he just happened to be carrying, no doubt in case of such a contingency.”
Edward’s face was white.
“I shall report you to your superiors for impertinence!”
Charlotte felt an idiotic desire to giggle. No doubt it was hysteria.
“Did he also kill Chloe Abernathy?” Pitt enquired, “and the Hiltons’ maid as well? Or have we two hangmen loose in Cater Street?”
They stared at him in silence. He was a ludicrous figure in their quiet withdrawing room—with ludicrous, ugly, and frightening suggestions.
Charlotte felt Emily’s hand creep into hers, and she was glad to hang on to it.
No one answered Pitt.
Chapter Four
THE FOLLOWING DAY was one of the worst that Charlotte could ever recall. Everyone was feeling wretched, although it showed variously in different people. Papa was shorter-tempered than usual, and very full of authority. Mama was endlessly seeing to practical details, as if sorting out the kitchen and the housework would somehow alter other events. Sarah kept repeating the comments of social acquaintances until Charlotte finally lost her temper and told her in no uncertain terms to be quiet. Dominic already was quiet, to the point of silence. Emily seemed least affected, her mind obviously on other things. The only good thing to be said was that Grandmama was still staying with Susannah, and as yet was not in a position to offer comment.
Since it was a Saturday there was no work, and no one felt like going out for any other purpose.
The vicar sent a small note, by messenger, to express his regrets.
“Very courteous of him,” Sarah said, glancing at it when her father had read it.
“It’s the least he could do,” Charlotte said irritably. The very thought of the vicar was enough to make her spit.
“You don’t expect him to come in person over a servant,” Sarah was also annoyed now. “Besides, there really isn’t anything he can do.”
Charlotte searched for an argument to that, and could not find one. She saw Dominic’s amused dark eyes on her, and felt the blood rush to her face. If only she could stop that happening! It made her feel so foolish.
Caroline came in at that moment, her face coloured from rushing, her hair a little astray. Edward looked up.
“What on earth have you been doing, my dear? You look like—there’s something on your nose.”
She brushed at it automatically, and made it worse.
Charlotte took a handkerchief and removed the mark from her. It was flour.
“Have you been cooking?” Edward asked with pained surprise. “What’s the matter with Mrs. Dunphy?”
“She’s got a headache. I’m afraid all this business has hit her very hard. She was fond of Lily, you know. Anyway, I rather like cooking. I came because I just remembered I promised to take a receipt for vegetable soup to Mrs. Harding, and I wondered if two of you would take it for me this afternoon?”
Charlotte liked Mrs. Harding. She was a sharp-tongued but very long-memoried old lady with endless recollections about all sorts of people she had known in her somewhat colourful youth, before she had married above herself, and settled to wealth and respectability. Charlotte doubted all the stories were true, but they were hugely entertaining.
“I’ll be happy to go, Mama,” she offered quickly.
“You must take Sarah or Emily with you.” Caroline