The Whitechapel Conspiracy - Anne Perry [62]
“The Inner Circle,” Charlotte said very quietly. “I think Adinett was one of them—in fact, I’m sure he was. They won’t forgive Thomas for convicting him.” She took a shivering breath. “They hanged him this morning.”
Emily was very somber. “I know. There was more in some of the newspapers about whether or not he was really guilty. No one seems to have any idea why he would do such a thing. Doesn’t Thomas have any clues?”
“No.”
“Well, isn’t he trying to find out?”
“He can’t,” Charlotte said quietly, looking down at the linen on the floor. “He’s been removed from Bow Street and sent … into the East End … to look for anarchists.”
“What?” Emily was aghast. “That’s monstrous! Who have you appealed to?”
“No one can do anything about it. Cornwallis already tried everything he could. If Thomas is somewhere in the East End, where nobody knows, anonymous, at least he is as safe from them as he can be.”
“Anonymous in the East End?” Emily’s face showed only too clearly her horror and all the dangers her imagination foresaw.
Charlotte looked away. “I know. Anything could happen to him, and it would be days before I’d even hear.”
“Nothing will happen to him,” Emily said quickly. “And I can see that he’s safer there than still where they can find him.” But there was more courage in her voice than conviction. She hurried on. “What can we do to help?”
“I’ve been to see Mrs. Fetters,” Charlotte replied, mimicking the same positive tone. “But she doesn’t know anything. I’m trying to think what to do next. There has to be some connection between the two men that they quarreled over, but the more I learn about Martin Fetters, the more he seems an unusually decent man who harmed no one.”
“Then you aren’t looking in the right places,” Emily said frankly. “I assume you have tried all the obvious things: money, blackmail, a woman, rivalry for some position or other?” She looked puzzled. “Why were they friends anyway?”
“Travel and political reform, so far as his wife knows.” Charlotte finished folding the last of the sheets. “Do you want a cup of tea?”
“Not especially. But I’d rather sit in the kitchen than stand here in the linen cupboard,” Emily responded. “Does anyone quarrel seriously over travel?”
“I doubt it. And they didn’t even travel to the same places. Mr. Fetters went to the Near East, and Adinett went to France, and he had been to Canada in the past.”
“Then it’s politics.” Emily followed her down the stairs and along the corridor to the kitchen. She said hello to Gracie in a matter-of-fact way. In no one else’s house would she have spoken to the maid, but she knew of Charlotte’s regard for her.
Charlotte put on the kettle. “They both wanted reform,” she went on.
Emily sat down, flicking her skirts expertly so they were not crushed. “Doesn’t everyone? Jack says it’s getting pretty desperate.” She looked down at her hands on the table, small and elegant, and surprisingly strong. “There have always been rumblings of unrest, but it’s a lot worse now than even ten years ago. There are so many foreigners coming into London and not enough work. I suppose there have been anarchists for years, but there are more of them now, and they are very violent.”
Charlotte knew that. It was in the newspapers often enough, including the trial of the French anarchist for the assassination of Carnot. And she knew that in London they were largely in the East End, where the poverty was worst and the dissatisfaction the highest. That was the official excuse for sending Pitt there.
“What?” Emily said quickly, seeing her sister’s expression. “What is it?”
“Are they really a danger, do you think? I mean, more than the individual lunatic?”
Emily considered for a moment before answering. Charlotte wondered whether it was to search for the right words, to examine her knowledge, or worst of all, if it were a matter of tact. If it were the last, then the instinctive answer must be very ugly. It was not Emily’s nature to be indirect, which was quite different from being devious, at which she was brilliant.