The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [134]
Charlotte felt Pitt stiffen and looked up quickly at him. There was an admiration in his face, and a profound gentleness which she had not seen in a long time, not even for Jerome Carvell. She did not need Pitt to tell her that this was Dulcie Arledge.
Dulcie looked around the room for an instant, her eyes resting on one person, then another. She did not hesitate at Mina Winthrop; apparently she did not recognize her, nor, it would seem, Bart Mitchell standing beside her. She smiled at Sir James Lismore and at Roderick Alberd. Several others earned a slight movement of her head and a shadow of a smile. Her glance slid over the graceful figure of Landon Hurlwood, a fraction taller than those surrounding him, but she gave no sign of acknowledgment.
Victor Garrick was sitting in an alcove with his cello cradled in his arms, waiting for the time when he was asked to play. His fair hair gleamed in the light from the gas bracket above him, and there was a look of peace in his face, as if he dreamed of something remote and uniquely lovely.
Dulcie inclined her head towards him, and pleasure softened his concentration in acceptance, and then the distant gaze returned.
Dulcie’s eyes finally came to rest on Pitt and a delicate smile curved her mouth. She moved forward, nodding, exchanging a word here and there, until she was only a few feet away from him.
Pitt waited and Charlotte did not speak. She was startled by the depth of feeling she sensed in Pitt, not only for Dulcie’s loss, and the dreadful disillusion she must be suffering with such dignity, but also a regard for her which held a tenderness and a respect he would almost certainly remember long after the case was over.
Charlotte admired him for it. She would not have wanted him to be incapable of such emotions; and yet it also stirred a twinge of unease in her, a consciousness that they had not shared this case, a recollection of the number of times that she had been absent when he had come home tired and worried, confused and needing to speak. She had been so full of her plans to make the new house beautiful, and to do it within an acceptable cost, that she had had room for little else in her mind. Now she was touched by a whisper of jealousy, soft, but unmistakable.
“Good morning, Superintendent,” Dulcie said, smiling up at Pitt. There was a distinct hesitation before she turned to Charlotte. “How do you do. You must be Mrs. Pitt. How gracious of you to have come as well. Most sensitive of you.”
Charlotte had to struggle to keep her answering smile sweet and think of something equally pleasant to reply. The slightest slip would be perceived and understood. She had only to meet Dulcie’s eyes to know that nothing passed her by.
“Thank you, Mrs. Arledge. I hope it is not an intrusion?”
“Of course not Please don’t think that for a second.” Dulcie turned to Carvell. Charlotte held her breath, then suddenly realized that of course Dulcie had no idea that he was anything more than another grieving friend, simply generous enough to have lent her his home for the occasion. She let out her breath again in a silent thanksgiving.
“Thank you, Mr. Carvell,” Dulcie said with a slight tilting of her head. “Your generous hospitality has made all the difference to me in what could well have been an almost unbearable situation. I assure you I appreciate it more than you