Waybourne, lost in his dark reflections did not bother to reply, but continued to frown, staring at a spot on the carpet by Pitt's feet.
51
Pitt went home at the end of the day with a feeling not of satisfaction but of conclusion. The end was in sight; there would be no surprises, nothing more to discover but the pain-ridden details to dovetail into one another and complete the pattern. Jerome, a sad, unsatisfied man, cramped into a livelihood that stifled his talents and curbed his pride, had fallen in love with a boy who promised to be all the things Jerome himself might have been. Then, when all that envy and hunger had spilled over into physical passion, what? Perhaps a sudden revulsion, a fear-and Arthur had turned on him, threatening exposure? Searing shame for Jerome, all his private weakness torn apart, laughed at. And then dismissal without hope of ever finding another position-ruin. And doubtless the loss of the wife, who was-what? What was she to him?
Or had Arthur been more sophisticated than that? Was he capable of blackmail, even if it consisted of only the gentle, permanent pressure of his knowledge and its power? The slow smiles, the little cuts of the tongue.
From what Pitt had learned of Arthur Way bourne, he was neither so ingenious nor so enamored of integrity that the thought could not have occurred to him. He seemed to have been a youth determined to wade into adulthood with all its excitements as soon as chance allowed. Perhaps that was not uncommon. For most adolescents, childhood hung on like old clothes, when new and glamorous ones, more flattering ones, were waiting.
Charlotte met him as soon as he walked in the door. 'I heard from Emily today, and you'll never believe-' She saw his face. 'Oh. What is it?' He smiled in spite of himself. 'Do I look so grim?' 'Don't evade me, Thomas!' she said sharply. 'Yes, you do. And what has happened? Is it something to do with that boy who was drowned? It is, isn't it?'
He took off his coat and Charlotte put it on the peg for him. She remained in the middle of the hallway, determined on an explanation.
'It appears as if it was the tutor,' he replied. 'It's all very sad and grubby. Somehow I can't be outraged with any pleasure anymore when it stops being anonymous and I can attach a
52
face to it and a life before it. I wish I could find it incomprehensible-it would be so much damnably easier!'
She knew he was referring to the emotions, not the crime. He had no need to explain. She turned in silence, just offering him her hand, and led the way into the warm kitchen-its blacked stove open, with live embers behind the bars, its wooden table scrubbed white, gleaming pans, blue-ringed china set out on the dresser, ironing waiting over the rails to be taken upstairs. Somehow it seemed to him to be the heart of the house, the living core that only slept but was never empty-unlike the parlor or bedrooms when there was no one in them. It was more than just the fire; it was something to do with the smell of the room, the love and the work, the echo of voices that laughed and talked there.
Had Jerome ever had a kitchen like this that was his own to sit in for as long as he wanted, where he could put things into perspective?
He eased comfortably into one of the wooden chairs, and Charlotte put the kettle on the hob.
'The tutor,' she repeated. 'That was quick.' She got down two cups and the china teapot with the flowers on it. 'And convenient.'
He was stung. Did she imagine he was trimming the case to suit his comfort or his career?
'I said it appears as if it was,' he retorted sharply. 'It's far from proven! But you said yourself that it was unlikely to have been a stranger. Who would be more likely than a lonely, inhibited man, forced by circumstances to be always more than a servant and less than an equal, neither in one world nor the other? He saw the boy every day, worked with him. He was constantly and subtly patronized, one minute encouraged for his knowledge, his skills, and the next rebuffed because of his social status, set aside as soon as school was out.'
'You make that sound awful.' She poured milk from the cooler at the back door into a jug and set it on the table. 'Sarah and Emily and I had a governess, and she wasn't treated like that at all. I think she was perfectly happy.'
'Would you have changed places with her?' he asked.
53
