The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [65]
“So would being taken by surprise from behind,” Sarah pointed out.
“I think this conversation is unprofitable,” Edward interrupted. “We cannot protect ourselves by indulging in speculation about all our acquaintances, and we may do them grave injustice. We will only end by frightening ourselves even more than is already unavoidable.”
“That is easy to say.” Caroline looked at her brandy glass. “But it will be very hard to do. From now on I believe I shall find myself thinking about people in a different way, wondering how much I really know about them, and if they are thinking the same of me, or at least of my family.”
Sarah stared at her, eyebrows arched. “You mean they might suspect Papa?”
“Why not? Or Dominic? They do not know them as we do.”
Charlotte remembered when it had crossed her mind, hers and Mama’s, for a black, shaming hour, and they themselves had considered the possibility of Papa’s involvement. She did not look at her mother. If she could forget it, so much the better.
“What I am afraid of,” she said honestly, “is that one day I might meet someone, and my suspicions show, as they might concerning anyone—but that this time they would be justified. And when he recognized my suspicions I would see in his face they were right. Then we would look at each other, and he would know that I knew, and he would have to kill me, quickly, before I spoke or cried out—”
“Charlotte!” Edward stood up and banged his fist on the piecrust table, knocking it over. “Stop it! You are very foolishly frightening everyone, and quite unnecessarily. None of you is going to be alone with this man, or any other.”
“We don’t know who he is,” Charlotte was not put off. “He could be someone we had considered a friend, as safe as one of us! It could be the vicar, or the butcher’s boy, or Mr. Abernathy—”
“Don’t be ridiculous! It will be someone with whom we have the barest acquaintance, if indeed any at all. We may not be excellent judges of character, but at least we are not capable of so gross a mistake as that.”
“Aren’t we?” Charlotte was looking at a blank space on the wall. “I’ve been wondering how much of a person is on the surface, how much we really know about anyone at all. We don’t really know very much about each other, never mind those with whom we have only an acquaintanceship.”
Dominic was still staring at her, surprise in his face. “I thought we knew each other very well?”
“Did you?” She looked back at him, meeting the dark, bright eyes, for once seeking only meaning, without her heart leaping. “Do you still?”
“Perhaps not.” He looked away and walked to the brandy decanter to pour himself some more. “Anyone else wish for another glass?”
Edward stood up. “I think we had better all have an early night; after sleep we may have composed ourselves and be able to face the problems a little more—practically. I shall think about it, and let you know in the morning what I have decided is best for us to do until this creature is caught.”
The following day there were the usual grim offices to perform. A police constable called, in the early morning, to inform them officially of the murder, and to ask them if they had any information. Charlotte wondered if Pitt would come, and was curiously both relieved and disappointed when he did not.
Lunch was a more or less silent affair of cold meat and vegetables. In the afternoon all four of them went to pay their respects to the Lessings, and offered to give any assistance they could—although, of course, there was nothing that would do anything to dissipate the shock or ease the pain. Nevertheless, it was a visit which must be paid, a courtesy that would cause hurt if not observed.
They all wore dark colours. Mama wore black itself. Charlotte regarded herself in the mirror with distaste before leaving. She had a dark green dress with black trim, and a black hat. It was not flattering, especially in the autumn sun.
They walked, since it was only a short distance. The Lessing house had all the blinds drawn and there was a constable outside in the street.