‘Yes. I think I might like to know that very much,’ she replied. ‘I do mean know, not suppose. I suppose it already.’
He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. It was a touch of the lips, an impression of warmth, no more. Then he stood up and left. She heard his voice saying goodbye to the maid in the hallway, and thanking her for allowing him to wait for Vespasia, then the sound of the front door closing.
She sat quite still for half an hour. She watched it on the mantel clock. Then she rose and went to the telephone to call Pitt. She did not panic until she found that she could not reach him.
What danger had she pushed Carlisle into? This was not some game, it was treason. If not yet murder, it could be any day. They hanged people for murder, piracy — and treason. If he were guilty then Talbot had nothing to lose by killing him.
She must steady herself. She had prompted Carlisle to go after proof of Talbot’s involvement. It was her responsibility to take care of him now. If she could not reach Pitt, then she must call Narraway. What he thought of her was irrelevant, however much it might hurt. And it would. Now, when she might be about to lose it, she realised his good opinion of her mattered more than that of anyone else, and in a different kind of way. She understood with an amazing degree of pain that she loved him.
One did not fall in love at her age. It was undignified and absurd! And yet it was also as real as the passions of youth, and deeper. There was all the past hunger and laughter and experience to add to it, and experience of pain, and the infinite sweetness of life.
She picked up the telephone and asked for Narraway’s number, her hands shaking. It seemed like minutes before she heard his voice at the other end, but it was actually barely a few seconds.
She began immediately. ‘Victor, when I arrived home I found Somerset Carlisle waiting for me, in a state of some distress …’
‘What has happened?’ he interrupted. ‘Are you all right?’
She sounded panicky. She must control it. ‘Yes, thank you, I am perfectly all right. It is not myself I am concerned for. Please listen to me.’ She could not allow him to think of her comfort now, and then find it impossible to tell him about Carlisle’s danger.
‘His distress was regarding his actions with the corpses, and the general … horror of it all,’ she continued more levelly. ‘He cares desperately about the treason. He sees a darkness coming, more than just a change. He is afraid for the future for all of us. The turn of the century will bring much that is new, shifts of power in Europe …’ Her voice was rising and beginning to sound panicky again.
She took a breath and resumed, more calmly. ‘He is afraid that time is short to stop Kynaston, and that if we delay he may escape, or whoever he is giving the secrets to may find other ways to continue. They are selling our secrets to the Swedes, who could then sell them on to … anyone-’
‘I know that, my dear,’ Narraway cut across her. ‘Time is very short. But if we do not find proof of Talbot’s involvement, there is nothing we can do. And to arrest Kynaston and not Talbot, if he is our go-between, is only half a result …’
‘Victor! Please … Carlisle seems to know that Talbot is involved. It all fits together too well for him not to. He has gone to try to find proof that Talbot has money he has not earned. He is continuously living beyond his means …’
‘Gone where?’ Narraway said with surprising calm; there was barely an edge to his voice.
‘I don’t know. I imagine to Talbot’s house, or wherever he might hope to find proof of his income …’
‘Have you told Pitt?’
‘I can’t reach him. He doesn’t answer his telephone.’
‘You said Carlisle has gone to find proof of Talbot being paid fairly large sums of money that he can’t account for?’ he repeated carefully.
‘Yes.’ She sounded steadier. ‘He knew Talbot was involved. I told him nothing.’ She hesitated. She must explain before he asked. It was acutely painful that she had behaved with such little discretion, even more so since she knew she might well do so again. Her pity for Carlisle, and her understanding of exactly what he felt, were too powerful to ignore.
‘Vespasia?’ Narraway prompted urgently.
‘Yes. I … Carlisle felt a terrible guilt over the way in which he drew Pitt into the investigation. He wants to redeem that debt, regardless of the cost to himself.’
‘We’ll deal with that later,’ he told her. ‘Right now we must consider where he may have gone. As you fear, if he is caught by Talbot himself, he will suffer nothing as simple as being arrested in the act of burglary. And worse than that, Talbot will know that we are after him. At best he will disappear, possibly to Sweden where we will not be able to reach him, and taking with him whatever else he knows. At worst, he may kill Carlisle …’
Vespasia felt herself freeze inside. She could have stopped him. She should have, however much it hurt or seemed a rebuff.
Narraway was silent on the other end of the telephone line.
She seemed to wait for ages. The ticking of the long-case clock was counting into eternity.
‘There’s less likely to be anything damning in the house,’ Narraway said at last. ‘Far more likely to be in his bank. I wonder if Carlisle will have thought of that.’
‘But we can’t gain access to anything in his bank,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I don’t even know if Thomas could …?’
‘Not easily,’ he replied. ‘Probably not at all, unless he thought of a really imaginative lie … but then that seems to be what Carlisle is rather gifted at.’ There was a slight trace of amusement in his voice, not just anger. ‘We must find out where Talbot banks. That may take a little while, but it will have for Carlisle as well. Please stay-’
She cut across him, something she would never ordinarily do. ‘Victor, he is a social climber. It is intensely important to him to belong. He will be at the most exclusive bank there is.’ She named her own bank.
She heard his sigh of relief. ‘Yes, of course he will. Thank you. Do you think Carlisle will have thought of that?’
‘Yes.’ She had no doubt at all. It was a deep instinctive knowledge Carlisle would share. ‘I’ll meet you there,’ she added.
‘No! Vespasia!’ His voice was sharp. ‘It could be unpleasant …’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ she agreed. ‘But Carlisle will listen to me more than to you.’ And, before he could argue any further, she replaced the earpiece on its hook, cutting the connection.
Nearly an hour later she and Narraway stood in the manager’s office of the most prestigious bank in London — and, of course where she was known and respected. Narraway was not, but because of his previous position as head of Special Branch, and now a member of the House of Lords, he was known by repute.
The manager was an exquisitely dressed, aquiline-faced man in his early sixties. He concealed his nervousness behind a mask of propriety, but Vespasia could see that he was trying desperately to salvage the bank’s reputation out of a disaster he could barely comprehend.
‘But he was a Member of Parliament!’ he said yet again. ‘He said it was state business of the utmost importance. A constituent of his was involved in a financial transaction that could start a war, if it were not dealt with immediately. He proved his identity to me, beyond any doubt. And, apart from that, I know him by sight anyway. He banks with us! Has done for years. You must be … mistaken, my lady.’
Narraway glanced at the manager, then at Vespasia, but did not interrupt.
‘Permit me to guess, Sir William,’ she said with a very faint smile. ‘Mr Carlisle wished to know if Mr Edom Talbot had received regular and very substantial payments from Sweden over the last year or so.’
His eyebrows shot up.
‘Yes! Yes, indeed. He said they were fraudulent and could involve Mr Talbot, and even the Prime Minister himself, in an appalling scandal, if his fears were well-founded. I assured him they were perfectly legitimate, and the funds were all accounted for.’
‘But spent,’ she said drily.
‘Of course.’ His face was bleak. ‘It was his money, quite legally obtained. All the paperwork was in order, I assure you. The money was transferred in the usual way …’
‘From a Mr Harold Sundstrom?’ she asked.
