Be inquisitive, by all means, but only in the mind. I am not with you just at the moment, but be assured my thoughts and my love are, and I shall see you again soon.
All my love, Emily
Charlotte put the sheets of paper down with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. She would not for even a second's darker thought have wished Emily anything but total happiness. It was easy to feel a welling up of gladness inside her at the thought of Emily singing and dancing along the streets
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of Paris, especially after the tragedy and the awful misery of George's death.
But there was also a gnawing fear of having been left out. She was sitting in a kitchen by herself, in a small house, in a very ordinary suburb of London, where in all probability she would be for the rest of her life. Pitt would always work hard, for less money a month than Emily was now spending in a day.
But it was not money, money did not provide happiness- and idleness certainly did not! The cause of the ache in her throat was the thought of walking in laughter and companionship in beautiful places with time to spend, and of being in love. That was it-it was the magic of being in love, the tenderness that was not habit but was intense and thrilling, full of discovery, taking nothing for granted, making everything infinitely precious. It was being the center of someone else's world, and they of yours.
Which was all very silly. She would not have changed Pitt for Jack Radley, or anyone else. Nor would she have changed her life for Emily's . . . except perhaps just at the moment. . . .
She heard Gracie's feet clacking along the corridor, outrage audible in every step as she came from the front door having had words with the fishmonger. Gracie had no time for tradesmen who got above themselves.
'I know,' Charlotte said as soon as Gracie appeared and before she could begin her expostulations.' 'He's impertinent!''
Gracie saw she would find no sympathy and instantly changed tack. She was all of sixteen now, and thoroughly experienced.
'What's Mr. Pitt working on now, ma'am?'
'A political case.'
'Oh. What a pity! Well never mind-maybe it'll be better next time!' And Gracie set about riddling the grate and restarting the fire.
* * *
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Pitt discovered from Micah Drummond that he himself had already been to the House of Commons and spoken to several of Etheridge's colleagues.
'Nothing that I can see helps us,' he said, shaking his head. He said nothing of pressure from the Commissioner of Police, or from the Home Office, but Pitt did not need to be told. They would still be subtle-it was early days yet-but the air of fear would be there, the anxiety to meet public demand, to answer the questions, quiet anxiety, and to appear to have everything in control. Some individuals would fear charges of incompetence, loss of status, even of office, and they would seek someone to blame.
'Political enemies?' Pitt asked.
'Rivals.' Drummond shrugged. 'But he wasn't ambitious enough to have enemies, or controversial enough to have stirred anyone to passion. And he had enough private income not to be greedy or to be tempted into graft.'
'The Irish question?'
'Against Home Rule, but so were three hundred forty-two others three years ago, more in 'eighty-six. And anyway, Hamilton was for it. And on other issues Etheridge seems to have been moderate, humane without being radical. For penal reform, poor law reform, the Factories Acts-but change should be gradual, nothing that would destabilize society or industry. Very unremarkable all the way along.'
Pitt sighed. 'The more I look at it, the more it seems as if it might be personal after all, and poor Hamilton was simply a mistake.'
