Traitors Gate - Anne Perry [142]
He arrived by hansom with the constables, and posted one at the back door, just in case of attempted flight. That would be undignified and absurd, but not beyond possibility. All kinds of people can panic, sometimes those one least expects.
A footman opened the front door, looking extremely sober—in fact the pallor of his face suggested he had already received some kind of shock and was still reeling from its effects.
“Yes sir?” he enquired without expression.
“I require to see Mr. Thorne.” Pitt made it a statement, not a request.
“I’m sorry sir, he is not at home,” the footman replied, still no emotion whatever in his face.
“When are you expecting his return?” Pitt felt a surprising frustration, probably because he had liked both Thorne himself and Christabel, and he loathed having to come on this errand. Being faced with postponing it made it even worse because it prolonged it.
“I am not, sir.” The footman looked confused and distressed, his eyes meeting Pitt’s directly for the first time.
“What do you mean, you are not?” Pitt snapped. “You mean you don’t know at what hour he will return? What about Mrs. Thorne? Is she at home?”
“No, sir, both Mr. and Mrs. Thorne left for Portugal yesterday evening, and my information is that they are not returning to England.”
“Not … at all?” Pitt was incredulous.
“No, sir, not at all. The household staff have been dismissed, except myself and the butler, and we are here only to take care of things until Mr. Thorne’s man of affairs can dispose of the house and its effects.”
Pitt was stunned. Thorne had fled. And if Thorne had gone last night, then it was not Soames’s doing. In fact Thorne had left without warning Soames, and he could have.
“Who was here yesterday?” he said sharply. “Exactly who called at this house yesterday?”
“Mr. Aylmer, sir. He came in the afternoon shortly after Mr. Thorne returned from the Colonial Office, about four o’clock, and half an hour after that, a Mr. Kreisler—”
“Kreisler?” Pitt interrupted immediately.
“Yes sir. He was here for about half an hour, sir.”
Pitt swore under his breath. “And when did Mr. Thorne inform you he was leaving for Portugal? When were those arrangements made?”
A delivery cart rumbled along the street behind them and fifty yards away a maid came up the area steps with a mat and began to beat it.
“I don’t know when he made the arrangements, sir,” the footman answered. “But he left about an hour after that, maybe a little less.”
“Well, when did he pack? When did he give the servants notice?”
“They only took two large cases with them, sir, and so far as I know, they were packed just after Mr. Kreisler arrived. Mr. Thorne gave us notice at the same time, sir. It was all very sudden—”
“Last night?” Pitt interrupted. “They gave you all notice last night? But the other staff cannot all have gone last night. Where would they go to?”
“Oh no sir.” He shook his head. “One of the upstairs maids was at her sister’s anyway, there being a death in the family, like. So the other one went this morning. They were sisters. Mrs. Thorne’s ladies’ maid had been sent on holiday….” He sounded surprised as he said it. It was an extraordinary thing to do. Servants did not have holidays. “And the cook is going this afternoon. She is a very good cook indeed, and much sought after.” He said that with some satisfaction. “Lady Brompton’ll be only too glad to have her. She’s been angling after her for years. They need a new bootboy next door, and Mrs. Thorne said as she’d called someone for the scullery maid and found her a place.”
So it was not completely sudden! They had been prepared for the eventuality. Kreisler had merely told him the time was come. But why? Why did Kreisler warn him instead of allowing him to be caught?