The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [92]
She could think of only one thing to say that would be of any comfort, and still be true. “If Pitt thought you could have done it, he would have been back here, questioning you. He wouldn’t exclude you just because you’re a gentleman.”
“Do you think he really has any idea?” he said eagerly. It was painfully clear how much he wanted to believe her, and how hard it was for him.
“I know you don’t like him, but do you think you could deceive him for long?”
His mouth turned down in self-mockery. “I don’t think I really dislike him. I think I’m afraid of him.”
“Because you think he’s clever?”
“Yes.” He sighed. “Thank you, Charlotte. Yes, I suppose Pitt has looked at us closely enough. Perhaps, if it were one of us, he would be closing in now. You don’t think he is, do you?” The sharp fear was back again.
This time she lied, as if to protect a child.
“No.”
He let out his breath again, and sat down. “How can Sarah think I could have done it? Surely anyone who knew me at all . . . ? You said she loves me, how could you love anyone and think that of him?”
“Because being in love with someone is not the same as knowing them,” she said, hearing her words harshly and clearly in her head. Would they mean as much to him as they did now to her?
“She doesn’t really love me,” he said slowly, “or she would not have thought it.”
“You thought it of yourself!”
“That’s different. I know myself. But I never thought ill of her, not in any way.”
“Then you don’t know her, any more than she knows you.” Charlotte meant it, although she was discovering her thoughts even as she spoke them.
“What do you mean?”
“We all have faults—Sarah, too. If you expect her to be perfect that is a wrong you’re doing her that is as great as the wrong she is doing you.”
“I don’t understand you, Charlotte.” He frowned. “Sometimes I think you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“No,” she agreed. It hurt, because she realized he really did not understand. “No, I thought you might not.” She made up her mind quickly, from a deep feeling. “I’m going up to see if Sarah is all right.”
“Sarah?” He was surprised.
She went to the door and turned.
“Yes.”
He was looking at her with a pucker between his brows. She ached inside, all down her throat and in her stomach. She wanted to put her arms round him, to comfort away the fear she knew was in him, but her love for him was quite different. It was no longer mysterious, romantic, blood-quickening. She felt older than he, and stronger.
“Charlotte—”
She knew what he wanted to say, he wanted to say “Help me,” and he did not know how.
She smiled. “I’m not going to tell her anything. And every man near Cater Street who has thought at all, must have the same fears as you do.”
He let out his breath and tried to smile. “Thank you, Charlotte. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Upstairs she found Sarah sitting in her bed, staring at the wall, a book lying open, face down on the covers.
“How are you?” Charlotte asked.
“What do you want?” Sarah looked at her coolly.
“Can I get anything for you? A hot drink?”
“No, thank you. What’s the matter? Won’t Dominic talk to you?” There was a bitter edge to Sarah’s voice, and Charlotte thought she was near tears.
She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Yes, he talked to me for quite a while.”
“Oh,” Sarah affected disinterest. “About what?”
“The hangman.”
“How gruesome. It will make you dream.”
Charlotte put out her hand and took Sarah’s. “Sarah, you shouldn’t let him think you suspect him—”
“Has he been complaining to you, crying on your shoulder?”
“It’s easy to see what you’re thinking! Sarah!” She held onto her more tightly as Sarah tried to pull away. “Even if you think so, can’t you have the kindness, or the