The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [74]
“Damned unpleasant, though. Feel as if no one tells me what they mean anymore. See meanings behind meanings, if you understand me?”
“Thing I can’t stand is the maids looking at one as if one were. . . .”
And so it went on. Dominic heard the same views over and over again; the embarrassment, the anger, the bewilderment—and, something worse, the almost inevitable sense that somewhere close, to someone they knew, it would happen again.
He wanted to forget it, to go back for a few hours to the way it was before the first murder.
Dominic was delighted a week later to see George Ashworth, dressed very formally, obviously ready for a night out.
“Ah, Corde!” Ashworth slapped him on the back. “Coming for a night’s entertainment? As long as you don’t tell Sarah!” he smiled, meaning it as a joke. It was unthinkable, of course, that Dominic would say anything. One did not mention such things to women, any women, except bawds.
Dominic made up his mind instantly.
“Exactly what I need. Certainly I’ll come. Where are we going?”
Ashworth grinned. “Bessie Mullane’s, to end with. Perhaps one or two other places beforehand. Have you eaten yet?”
“No.”
“Excellent. I know a place you will like, quite small, but the best food and the most entertaining company.”
And so it proved. It was certainly a little bawdy, but Dominic had never eaten a richer, more delicately cooked meal, or enjoyed such free wine. Gradually he forgot Cater Street and all those who lived there—or died there. Even Sarah’s present foolishness disappeared from his mind with the good spirits and conviviality of the company.
Bessie Mullane’s proved to be a cheerful and extremely comfortable bawdy house where they were lavishly welcomed. Ashworth was obviously not only known, but quite genuinely liked. They had not been there above half an hour when they were joined by a young swell, extravagantly dressed and a little drunk, but not yet objectionable.
“George!” he said with evident pleasure. “Haven’t seen you in weeks!” He slid into the seat beside him. “Good evening, sir,” he inclined his head towards Dominic. “I say, have you seen Jervis? Thought I’d take him out of himself a bit, but can’t find him!”
“What’s the matter with him?” Ashworth enquired pleasantly. “By the way,” he indicated Dominic, “Dominic Corde, Charles Danley.”
Danley nodded.
“Silly fool lost at cards, lost rather a lot.”
“Shouldn’t play more than you can afford,” Ashworth said without sympathy. “Stay with your own level of game.”
“Thought he was,” Danley curled up the corners of his lips in disgust. “Other fellow cheated. Could have told him he would.”
“Thought Jervis was pretty comfortable?” Ashworth opened his eyes indicating it was something of a question. “He’ll recover. Have to curtail his entertaining for a while.”
“That isn’t it! He was stupid enough to accuse the bastard of cheating.”
Ashworth grinned. “What happened? Did he call him out for a duel? Should have thought after all that scandal with Churchill and the Prince of Wales five years ago he’d have steered clear of anything like that!”
“No, of course he didn’t! Apparently the cheating hadn’t been particularly well done, and he was able to expose it without any effort—which he was idiotic enough to do!”
“Why idiotic?” Dominic interrupted from sheer curiosity. “I would have thought if a man were crass enough to cheat, and do it badly, he deserved whatever came to him?”
“Naturally! But this was an extremely ill-tempered fellow, and with some weight of influence. He’ll be ruined, of course! Ultimate sin, to cheat badly. Implies you don’t even have the respect for your fellows to do it well! But he’ll make damned sure he takes poor Jervis with him.”
Ashworth frowned. “How? Jervis didn’t cheat, did he? Even if he did, he wasn’t caught, which is the main thing. After all, everyone cheats. The accusation will look mere spite!”
“Nothing to do with cheating, dear fellow. Man