can be arranged.” Then she turned away and walked out of the room without speaking again. She could no longer keep within her the grief and the longing that consumed her.
Pitt stood still until her footsteps died away, then he turned and walked back into the hall. It was empty except for the butler, who showed him out into the lamp-lit street.
Almost exactly a month later, Pitt, superintendent of Bow Street again, stood beside Charlotte in the throne room in Buckingham Palace. He was acutely uncomfortable in a new suit, an immaculate shirt, collar high and straight, boots perfect. Even his hair was well cut and tidy. Charlotte had a new gown, and he had never seen her look lovelier.
But it was Vespasia, a few feet away, who held his attention. She was gowned in dove gray with pearls at her throat and ears. Her hair gleamed silver, her chin was high, her face exquisite, delicate, very pale. She refused to lean on Somerset Carlisle’s arm, even though he stood ready and watchful to help.
A little in front of them, Charles Voisey knelt on one knee as another old woman, short, dumpy, sharp-eyed, moved a trifle clumsily to touch the sword to his shoulder and command him to arise.
“We are sensible of the great service you have given us, for the throne and the continued safety and prosperity of your country, Sir Charles,” she said distinctly. “It is our pleasure to acknowledge before the world the acts of selfless courage and loyalty which you have performed in private.”
The Prince of Wales, standing a few yards away, beamed his approval and even more heartfelt gratitude. “The throne has no more loyal servant … or friend,” he said appreciatively.
There was a rustle of enthusiastic applause from the audience of courtiers.
Voisey tried to speak, and choked, as he would be choked from now on, should he ever again raise his voice for a republic.
Victoria was accustomed to men being overcome in her presence. She ignored it, as good manners required.
Voisey bowed and turned to leave. As he did so he looked at Pitt with a hatred so violent, so intense, his body shook with it, and there were beads of sweat in his face.
Charlotte grasped Pitt’s arm until her fingers dug into his flesh even through the fabric of his coat.
Voisey looked at Vespasia. She met his gaze unblinkingly, her head high, and she smiled with that same passionate calm with which Mario Corena had died.
Then she turned and walked away so he should not see her tears.
Read on for a preview of Anne Perry’s next thrilling novel
SOUTHAMPTON ROW,
featuring Thomas and Charlotte Pitt
Now in bookstores everywhere.
Published by The Random House Publishing Group.
1
“I’
Pitt was stunned. He stood in the middle of the office with the sunlight splashing across the floor and the noise of horses’ hooves, wheels on the cobbles and the shouts of drivers barely muffled beyond the window. Pleasure boats plied up and down the Thames on the hot June day. After the Whitechapel conspiracy he had been reinstated as superintendent of the Bow Street police station. Queen Victoria herself had thanked him for his courage and loyalty. Now, Cornwallis was dismissing him again! “They can’t,” Pitt protested. “Her Majesty herself …”
Cornwallis’s eyes did not waver, but they were filled with misery. “They can. They have more power than you or I will ever know. The Queen will hear what they want her to. If we take it to her, believe me, you will have nothing left, not even Special Branch. Narraway will be glad to have you back.” The words seemed forced from him, harsh in his throat. “Take it, Pitt. For your own sake, and your family’s. It is the best you’ll get. And you’re good at it. No one could measure what you did for your country in beating Voisey at Whitechapel.”
“Beating him!” Pitt said bitterly. “He’s knighted by the Queen, and the Inner Circle is still powerful enough to say who shall be superintendent of Bow Street and who shan’t!”
Cornwallis winced, the skin drawn tight across the bones of his face. “I know. But if you hadn’t beaten him, England would now be a republic in turmoil, perhaps even civil war, and Voisey would be the first president. That’s what he wanted. You beat him, Pitt, never doubt it … and never forget it, either. He won’t.”
Pitt’s shoulders slumped. He felt bruised and weary. How would he tell Charlotte? She would be furious for him, outraged at the unfairness of it. She would want to fight, but there was nothing to do. He knew that, he was only arguing with Cornwallis because the shock had not passed, the rage at the injustice of it. He had really believed his position at least was safe, after the Queen’s acknowledgment of his worth.
“You’re due a holiday,” Cornwallis said. “Take it. I’m … I’m sorry I had to tell you before.”
Pitt could think of nothing to say. He had not the heart to be gracious.
“Go somewhere nice, right out of London,” Cornwallis went on. “The country, or the sea.”
“Yes … I suppose so.” It would be easier for Charlotte, for the children. She would still be hurt but at least they would have time together. It was years since they had taken more than a few days and just walked through woods or over fields, eaten picnic sandwiches and watched the sky.
Charlotte was horrified, but after the first outburst she hid it, perhaps largely for the children’s sake. Ten-and- a-half-year-old Jemima was instant to pick up any emotion, and Daniel, two years younger, was quick behind. Instead she made much of the chance for a holiday and began to plan when they should go and to think about how much they could afford to spend.
Within days it was arranged. They would take her sister Emily’s son with them as well; he was the same age
