Pitt clutched Micah Drummond's hat and smiled back at her.
'I am sorry for having been so late,' he said sincerely, 'and for having to leave in such haste.'
'No doubt a pressing case.' She raised her fine silver eyebrows.
'Very,' he agreed, knowing she was curious. 'An unpleasant murder.''
'London is full of them,' she replied. 'Is it of personal motive?'
'I doubt it.'
' 'Then a thankless task for you, and requiring little of your peculiar skills. No social issue, I presume?'
'None so far. It looks to be merely political, or perhaps the work of a random madman.''
'An ordinary violence, then.'
He knew she was vaguely disappointed that there was no opportunity for her to meddle, even vicariously through Charlotte or Emily; he knew also that she did not wish to admit it.
'Very pedestrian,' he agreed soberly. 'If that is what it proves to be.'
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'Thomas-'
'Excuse me, ma'am.' And with a little bow he smiled once more at Emily, turned, and walked briskly away, through the church gateway and down Lower Belgrave Street towards Buckingham Palace Road.
A small reception was to be given in one of the town houses in Eaton Square by a good friend of Emily's, and after a few more moments they all walked across the street in the sun, first Emily on Jack's arm followed by Caroline and Edward, then Charlotte and her children. Dominic offered his arm to Great-aunt Vespasia, and she accepted it graciously, although her mind was still on the retreating figure of Pitt. Grandmama was escorted, grumbling all the way, by a close friend of the groom.
It was the beginning of a new stage of life for Emily.
Then Charlotte suddenly thought of the women in the public meeting, some so outrageously complacent, so sure of their comfort, their unassailable positions, others risking derision and notoriety to fight for a cause that was surely hopeless. How many had once been brides like this, full of hope and uncertainty, dreaming of happiness, companionship, safety of the heart?
And how many had ended a few short years later like the woman Ivory they had spoken of with such disdain-fighting for redress, a byword for unhappiness?
She had barely mentioned that meeting to Pitt, there had been so much else to think of, but it was there at the back of her mind.
This was different, though. Emily was in love, the radiance of her face mirrored that-but she had never been naive, never lost sight of the practical in all the romance.
Charlotte smiled as she recalled their girlhood, the long hours spent talking of the futures they planned, the gallant and handsome men they would find. It was Emily who never completely let go of reality, even at twelve with her hair in pigtails and a white starched pinafore over her dress. Emily
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always kept one toe on the ground. It was Charlotte whose dreams took flight and soared from the world!
Champagne was poured, toasts were made, there were speeches and laughter, and Charlotte joined in, happy for Emily, delighted by the glamor and the romance, the lights and glasses, the flowers with their heady perfume, the rustle of taffeta and silk.
She put a few tiny pastries on a plate and took them over to her grandmother sitting on a chair in the corner.
The old lady took them, surveyed them carefully, and picked out the largest. 'Where did you say they were going?' she asked. 'You told me, and I forgot.'
'Paris, and then a tour of Italy,' Charlotte replied.
