The Whitechapel Conspiracy - Anne Perry [145]
“Are you certain?” he said gently. “Once you have put the proof into my hands I cannot give it back to you. I must act upon it. Are you sure you would not prefer to destroy it and keep your husband’s name as it is: that of a man who fought for the freedom of all men, in his own way?”
Juno hesitated.
“Will it really do good for the public to know that there are such men among them?” he went on. “Men you cannot name, and therefore the rest you cannot exclude, who would overthrow our Houses of Lords and of Commons, our monarchy, and set in their place a president and a senate, however reformed, whatever justice or equality it offered? Those are strange ideas to the man in the street, who does not understand them and who feels safe with what he is accustomed to, even with the ills and iniquities it sustains. John Adinett may well have kept silent because he knew what turmoil knowledge of such a conspiracy could cause, as well as not knowing whom he could trust. Have you considered that?”
“No,” Juno said in a whisper. “No, I had not thought of it. Perhaps you are right. Maybe … if he were afraid to speak then, he would wish it kept silent now. He was a very fine man … a great man. I see why it grieves you so much that he is dead. I am sorry, Mr. Voisey … and ashamed.”
“You have no need to be,” he said with a brief smile, full of sadness. “It is not your fault. Yes, he was a great man, and maybe history will yet show him to be, but not yet, I think.”
Juno rose to her feet and walked over to the fireplace. Deliberately, she dropped the book into the flames. “I thank you profoundly for your advice, Mr. Voisey.” She looked across at Charlotte.
Charlotte stood up too, her head swimming, her thoughts in chaos, but at the brilliant, blazing core of her lay one piece of certainty—Charles Voisey was at the heart of the conspiracy! He knew those papers more intimately than they did. Juno had mentioned a presidency, but she had said nothing of a senate. Nothing of doing away with the Lords and Commons.
“Mrs. Pitt …” His voice cut across her thoughts.
“Mr. Voisey,” she replied, knowing she sounded awkward, preoccupied in a way for which there was no reason. He was staring at her, his clever eyes studying every expression of her face. Did he guess she knew?
“Perhaps you are right.” She forced the words out. Let him think she was disappointed because it would have vindicated Pitt. He hated Pitt. He would believe that. They must get out of here, away from him. Get home safely.
Safely! Martin Fetters had been murdered in his own library. She would have to tell Juno, get her to leave London and go to the country somewhere, completely anonymous. Never be found until they could protect her, or it no longer mattered.
“I believe so,” he said with a twisted smile. “It would do more harm than the good of restoring Adinett’s good name … which he was prepared to forfeit for his country’s sake.”
“Yes, I see that.” She moved towards the door, but she must go slowly, in spite of the almost overwhelming desire to hurry, even to run. He must not guess she knew. He must not sense fear. She actually stopped and allowed him to come closer to her, before going forward to follow Juno into the hall.
It seemed as if they would never reach the front door and the night air.
Juno stopped again to bid him good-bye and thank him for his advice.
Then at last they were outside in the coach and moving away.
“Thank God!” Charlotte breathed.
“Thank God?” Juno asked, her voice tired, disappointed.
“He knew about the senate,” Charlotte replied. “You didn’t mention it.”
Juno reached out and gripped her in the dark, her fingers digging into Charlotte’s flesh, locked tight in terror.
“You must leave London,” Charlotte said grimly. “Tonight. He knows you have read the book. Don’t tell anyone where you go. Send a message to Lady Vespasia