'Ma'am, I think, if you will forgive me, that you should get back into the carriage and permit me to drive you back to Lady Cumming-Gould.'
'No-no thank you, Forbes. Will you take me to the Bow Street Police Station? I have an-an incident to report.'
'Yes ma'am, if that is what you wish.'
Gratefully she took his arm, and awkwardly, tripping over the step, she half fell inside the carriage and sat there shivering while they covered the short distance across the rest of the bridge and up the north side to Bow Street.
Forbes helped her out again, now severely anxious for her welfare, going with her past the duty sergeant and up the stairs to Micah Drummond's office.
Drummond looked at her in alarm, then at Forbes. 'Go and get Inspector Pitt!' he commanded. 'Immediately, man!'
Forbes turned on his heel and ran down the stairs two at a time.
'Sit down, Mrs. Pitt.' Drummond half carried-her to his own chair. 'Now tell me what on earth has happened. Are you ill?'
She wanted above anything else to fall into Pitt's arms and be held, to weep herself into exhaustion and to sleep, but first she must explain, now, before Pitt came. It was her fault, not his, and the very least she owed him was not to involve him in the blame, and to spare him the anguish of her explanation.
Slowly and carefully, between sips of brandy, which she loathed, and staring at Micah Drummond's strained and gen
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tie face, she recounted precisely what she had done, and how Garnet Royce had responded. She saw the reflection of fear and anger in his eyes, his perception of what would happen before she reached that part of the account herself, and the briefest flicker of admiration for what she had said.
She faltered when she told him how Royce had slipped on the ice and plunged over the balustrade into the river, but slowly, with her eyes shut, she found the words, though they were inadequate to express her terror and her guilt.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. What would he do to her? To Pitt? Had she jeopardized not only herself but Thomas also? She was bitterly ashamed and afraid.
Drummond held both her hands.
'There can be no doubt that he is dead,' he said slowly. 'No one could live in the river in this weather, even if he survived the fall. The River Police will find him presently; maybe tomorrow, maybe later, depending on the tide. There are three conclusions they can come to: suicide, accident, or murder. You were the last person known to have seen him alive, so they will come to question you.'
She wanted to speak but her voice would not come. It was even worse than she had thought!
His hands tightened over hers. 'It was an accident, which occurred in the course of his attempting to commit murder. It seems his dread of scandal was so great he would kill to keep his position. But we cannot prove that, and it would be wiser not to try. It would distress his family and achieve nothing. I think the best thing would be for me to go to the River Police and tell them that he received letters written by his late wife which distressed him profoundly, and we fear that they may have disturbed the balance of his mind-which is perfectly true. Then they may draw whatever conclusions they wish, but I imagine they will find it to have been suicide. That would be the best thing, in the circumstances. There is no need to tar his name with accusations that cannot be proved.'
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She searched his face, finding only gentleness there. The relief was so intense it was like the easing of a cramp, painful and exquisite. The tears would no longer be stayed, and she buried her head in her hands and sobbed with pity, exhaustion, and overwhelming, devastating gratitude.
She did not even see Pitt come in the door, ashen-faced, Forbes at his elbow, but she felt his arms go round her as she breathed in the familiar smell of his coat, feeling the texture of it under her cheek.
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