Narraway frowned. “You said ‘Roland Kingsley’? Is he the same man who wrote that damning piece about Serracold?”
“Yes. .”
“Yes, what?” Narraway’s clear, dark eyes bored into Pitt’s. “There’s something more.”
“He’s afraid,” Pitt said tentatively. “Some pain to do with his son’s death.”
“Find out about it!”
Pitt had been going to say that Kingsley’s personal opinions did not seem as virulent as those he had expressed in his letter to the newspapers, but he was not sure enough of it. He had nothing but an impression, and he did not trust Narraway, did not know him well enough to venture something so nebulous. He was uncomfortable working for a man of whom he knew so little. He had no sense of Narraway’s personal beliefs; his passions or needs, his weaknesses, even his background before their first meeting, were all shrouded in mystery to him.
“What about Mrs. Serracold?” Narraway went on. “I don’t like Serracold’s socialism, but anything is better than Voisey with his foot on the ladder. I need answers, Pitt.” He sat forward suddenly. “This is the Inner Circle we are fighting. If you doubt what they can do, think back to Whitechapel. Think of the sugar factory, remember Fetters lying dead on his own library floor. Think how close they came to winning! Think of your family!”
Pitt was cold. “I am doing that,” he said between his teeth. It cost him an effort precisely because he was thinking of Charlotte and the children and he hated Narraway for reminding him of it. “But if Rose Serracold murdered Maude Lamont, I’m not hiding it. If we do that, then we’re no better than Voisey is, and he’ll know that as well as we do.”
Narraway’s face was dark. “Don’t lecture me, Pitt!” he spat. “You are not a constable on the beat blowing his whistle if somebody picks a pocket! There’s more than a silk handkerchief or a gold watch at stake, there’s the government of the nation. If you want simple answers, go back to arresting cutpurses!”
“And precisely what did you say was the difference between us and the Inner Circle, sir?” Pitt exaggerated the last word, and his voice was sharp and brittle as ice.
Narraway’s lips tightened, and there was anger deep in his face, but there was a flash of admiration also.
“I haven’t asked you to protect Rose Serracold if she’s guilty, Pitt. Don’t be so damned pompous! Although it sounds as if you think she might be. What did she go to this wretched woman for anyway?”
“I don’t know yet.” Pitt relaxed into the chair again. “To contact her mother, she admits that, and Kingsley said that was the reason she gave Maude Lamont, but she hasn’t told me why, or how it can matter so much she’s prepared to deceive her husband and risk his career if some Tory journalist wants to make a fool of her.”
“And did she contact her mother?” Narraway asked.
Pitt looked at him with a sudden tingle of shock. Narraway’s eyes were clear, without irony. For an instant it was as if he had believed either answer were possible.
“Not to her satisfaction,” Pitt replied with certainty. “She is still searching for something, an answer she needs. . and fears.”
“She believed in Maude Lamont’s powers.” That was a statement.
“Yes.”
Narraway breathed in and out silently, very slowly. “Did she describe what happened?”
“Apparently, Maude Lamont’s appearance changed, her face shone and her breath seemed luminous. She spoke with a different voice.” He swallowed. “She also seemed to rise in the air, and her hands to elongate.”
The tension eased out of Narraway’s body. “Hardly conclusive. Many of them do that. Vocal tricks, oil of phosphorus. Still. . I suppose we believe what we want to believe. . or what we dread to.” He looked away. “And some of us feel compelled to find out, however much it hurts. Others leave it forever hanging unknown. . can’t bear to take away the last hope.” He straightened up sharply. “Don’t underestimate Voisey, Pitt. He won’t let desire for revenge get in the way of his ambition. You aren’t that important to him. But he won’t ever forget it was you who beat him in Whitechapel. He won’t forget, and he certainly won’t forgive. He will wait for his time, and it will be when you can’t defend yourself. He won’t be precipitated, but one day he’ll strike. I’ll watch your back for you as I can, but I’m not infallible.”
“I met him. . in the House of Commons, three days ago,” Pitt replied, shivering inside in spite of himself. “I know he hasn’t forgotten. But if I walk in fear, then he’s won already. My family is out of London, but I can’t stop him. I admit, if I thought there were any escape, I might be tempted to take it. . but there isn’t.”
“You’re more of a realist than I gave you credit for,” Narraway said, and there was a grudging respect in his voice. “I resented Cornwallis for wishing you onto me. Took you as a favor to him, but perhaps it wasn’t after all.”
“Why do you owe Cornwallis any favors?” The words slipped out before he thought about it.
“None of your business, Pitt!” Narraway said tartly. “Go and find out what the devil that woman was doing. . and prove it!”
“Yes, sir.”
It was only when he was outside again in the street in the late sunlight and the roar and rattle of traffic that Pitt stopped to wonder whether Narraway had meant Rose Serracold-or Maude Lamont!
CHAPTER SIX
When Emily opened the newspaper the day after the discovery of the murder in Southampton Row, her immediate interest was in the political reports. An excellent picture of Mr. Gladstone caught her eye, but for the time being she was more concerned with the London constituencies. There was less than a week to go before voting would begin. She felt a sharp tingle of excitement, more than for the previous election because now she had tasted the possibilities of office and her ambition for Jack was correspondingly higher. He had proved his ability and, perhaps more importantly, his loyalty. This time he might be rewarded with a position of greater importance, and so more power to do good.
He had made an excellent speech yesterday. The crowd had been appreciative. She scanned the pages looking for a report of it. Instead she saw Aubrey Serracold’s name, and below it an article which began quite well. Until she was halfway through it she did not read between the lines the sarcasm, the veiled suggestion of the foolishness of his ideas, and that though well-intentioned, they were formed in ignorance, a rich man playing at politics, indescribably condescending in his ambition to change others to his own idea of what was good for them.
Emily was furious. She dropped the paper and stared across the breakfast table at Jack. “Have you seen this?” she demanded, jabbing her finger at it.
“No.” He held out his hand and she picked up the fallen sheets and passed them to him. She watched as he read it, the frown deepening between his brows.
“Will it hurt him?” she asked when he looked up. “I am sure it will hurt his feelings, but I mean his chances of being elected,” she added quickly.
A flicker of amusement lit his eyes for a moment, and then gentleness. “You want him to win, don’t you? For Rose’s sake. .”
She had not realized she was so transparent. It was uncharacteristic of her. She was usually good at revealing only what she wished, totally unlike Charlotte, who could be read by almost anyone. Yet it was not always satisfying to feel so alone. “Yes, I do,” she agreed. “I thought it was more or less a certainty. It’s been a Liberal seat for decades. Why should it be different now?”
“It’s only one article, Emily. If you say anything at all, there’s bound to be someone who disagrees with you.”
“You disagree with him,” she said very seriously. “Jack, can’t you defend him anyway? They’re making him sound far more extreme than he is. They would listen to you.” She saw him hesitate, the shadow in his face. “What is it?” she demanded. “Have you lost confidence in him? Or is it Rose? Of course she’s eccentric, she’s always been that way. What on earth does it matter? Do our politicians have to be gray to be any good?”
There was laughter in his face for a moment, and then it was gone. “Not gray, but toned down a little. Don’t take anything for granted, Emily. Don’t take it as certain that I’ll win. There are too many issues at stake that could
