The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [67]
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Martha’s white face pale even more till her eyes seemed like depressions in her skull and the fair hair of her eyebrows appeared quite dark in contrast. The poor woman looked ready to faint, in spite of her broad shoulders and solid body. “Please sit down.” Charlotte half pushed a chair towards her. “You must be terribly tired. Have you been up all night?”
Martha nodded and sank into the chair.
“It’s very good of you,” she said a little shakily. “So many practical details to see to, so much cooking, letters to write, black to be prepared, and the house still has to be organized, maids given instructions. Is Mrs. Lessing asleep?”
“Yes, and I am most loath to wake her, unless it is something of real urgency,” Charlotte said firmly, meaning it for the vicar, although she was still looking at Martha.
The vicar grunted. “I had hoped to be of some spiritual assistance to the poor woman, but if you say she is asleep, I suppose I shall have to call another time.”
“Quite,” Charlotte agreed. She did not wish to offer them refreshment, but Martha’s haggard face inspired her pity. “May I offer you a dish of tea? It would be no trouble.”
Martha opened her mouth as if to accept, then doubt mixed with anxiety crossed her face. Again she hesitated but at last she stood up and definitely declined.
After they had gone Charlotte went to the kitchen to see that a light meal was being prepared for supper, and that the following day’s catering was in hand. She was called from those duties by the parlour maid to announce that the police had arrived. She had been expecting their call, had it in her mind from the beginning, and yet now she was taken by surprise.
It was Pitt, of course. She found herself oddly embarrassed that he should find her here, self-conscious of her wish to help.
“Good evening, Miss Ellison,” he said without showing more than a lifted eyebrow of surprise. “Is Mrs. Lessing well enough to speak to me? I am aware that Mr. Lessing is still at the church.”
“I imagine that she will have to speak to you,” Charlotte said quietly. She meant the softness of her tone to rob it of rudeness. “Perhaps it would be easier to have it done as soon as may be. There is no purpose in avoiding it. If you care to wait, I shall go and awaken her. If I take a little while, please excuse me.”
“Of course.” He hesitated. “Charlotte?”
She turned.
He was frowning. “If she is ill, distressed, there is nothing I need to ask that cannot wait until tomorrow. It’s just that I doubt it will be any easier then. It might even give her a better night to have it past.”
She found herself smiling. “I think it would. May I stay, if she wishes?”
“I would prefer that you did.”
It took her several minutes to rouse Mrs. Lessing and assure her that her appearance was acceptable and would not disgrace her in front of such a lesser creature as a policeman, and, then, that he was courteous, that she had nothing to fear since she had no guilt, and would rest more easily from having the ordeal accomplished. She did not have the heart to tell her it would very likely be merely the first of many calls. One grief, one fear was enough for today.
Pitt was very gentle with her, but the questions were unavoidable: Who were Verity’s friends? With whom had she only recently become acquainted? Who were her male admirers? Had she expressed any fears? How well had she known Chloe Abernathy? Had she visited the Hiltons or the Ellisons so that she might have any knowledge of their servants, or they of her? Had they any information or observations in common?
Mrs. Lessing knew nothing that was of help. She answered with the bewildered meaninglessness of someone still suffering from shock. It was as if she did not understand the purpose of his questions.
Finally he gave up and rose to leave.