Treason at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [29]
“Mrs. Waterman, Mr. Narraway came to tell me further news concerning my husband’s work. If you choose to think ill of it, or of me, then you will do so whatever the truth is, because that is who you are …”
Now it was Mrs. Waterman’s face that flamed. “Don’t you try to cover it with nice words and high-and-mighty airs,” she said bitterly. “I know a man with a fancy for a woman when I see one.”
It was on the edge of Charlotte’s tongue to ask sarcastically when Mrs. Waterman had ever seen one, but it was perhaps an unnecessarily cruel thought. Mrs. Waterman was exactly what her grandmama used to call a vinegar virgin, despite the courteous Mrs. in front of her name.
“You have an overheated and somewhat vulgar imagination, Mrs. Waterman,” she said coldly. “I cannot afford to have such a person in my household, so it might be best for both of us if you pack your belongings and leave first thing in the morning. I shall make breakfast myself, and then see if my sister can lend me one of her staff until I find someone satisfactory of my own. Her husband is a member of Parliament, and she keeps a large establishment. I shall see you to say good-bye in the morning.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Waterman turned for the door.
“Mrs. Waterman!”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I shall say nothing of you to others, good or ill. I suggest that you return that courtesy and say nothing of me. You would not come out of it well, I assure you.”
Mrs. Waterman’s eyebrows rose slightly.
Charlotte smiled with ice in her eyes. “A servant who will speak ill of one mistress will do so of another. Those of us who employ servants are well aware of that. Good night.”
Mrs. Waterman closed the door without replying.
Charlotte went to the telephone to speak to Emily and ask for her help, immediately. She was a little surprised to see her hand shaking as she reached for the receiver.
When the voice answered she gave Emily’s number.
It rang at the other end several times before the butler picked it up.
“Mr. Radley’s residence. May I help you?” he said politely.
“I’m sorry to disturb you so late,” Charlotte apologized. “It is Mrs. Pitt calling. Something of an emergency has arisen. May I speak with Mrs. Radley, please?”
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Pitt,” he replied with sympathy. “Mr. and Mrs. Radley have gone to Paris and I do not expect them back until next weekend. Is there something I may do to assist you?”
Charlotte felt a sort of panic. Who else could she turn to for help? Her mother was also out of the country, in Edinburgh, where she had gone with her second husband, Joshua. He was an actor, and had a play running in the theater there.
“No, no thank you,” she said a little breathlessly. “I’m sure I shall find another solution. Thank you for your trouble. Good night.” She hung up quickly.
She stood in the quiet parlor, the embers dying in the fire because she had not restoked it. She had until tomorrow evening to find someone to care for Daniel and Jemima, or she could not go with Narraway. And if she did not, then she could not help him. He would be alone in Dublin, hampered by the fact that he was known there, by friend and enemy alike.
Pitt had been Narraway’s man from the beginning, his protégé and then his second in command—perhaps not officially, that was Austwick, but in practice. It had bred envy, and in some cases fear. With Narraway gone it would be only a matter of time before Pitt too was dismissed, demoted to an intolerable position, or—worse than that—met with an accident.
Then another thought occurred to her, ugly and even more imperative. If Narraway was innocent, as he claimed, then someone had deliberately reorganized evidence to make him look guilty. They could do the same to Pitt. In fact it was quite possible that if Pitt had had anything whatever to do with the case, he might already be implicated. As soon as he was home from France he would walk straight into the trap. Only a fool would allow him time to mount a defense, still less to find proof of his innocence and, at the same time, presumably