“Since the autumn of last year, Mrs. Pitt,” he answered.
“Oh—some time.” The words slipped out involuntarily. She swallowed, hoping the disappointment in them did not sound as clear to his ears as it did to hers. Still, perhaps that was not too long in which to fall in love—for some people. She could not imagine taking so long herself. And Bart Mitchell did not look like a man to take above half a year for his emotions to become engaged. “Do you enjoy London society, or does it seem very tame after all your adventures?” It was a clumsy question. It invited only a polite answer. “Oh—I beg your pardon!” She hurried on. “How can you say anything but that you do? But please give me a more honest reply, if you miss the sense of danger and something new each day.” She was talking far too quickly, and yet she seemed unable to moderate herself. “The challenge to your imagination and courage, your ability to endure hardship, and to invent your way out of shortage or loss.”
“My dear Mrs. Pitt.” He smiled at her with what seemed to be quite genuine amusement. “I assure you, I had no intention of giving you an answer that was merely civil. I do not take you for a woman who passes her time in idle chatter. In fact, I think there is probably purpose to most of what you do.”
She felt her face burn. That was far closer to the truth than, please Heaven, he had any idea!
“Oh,” she said uselessly. “I—er …”
“To answer your question,” he continued, “of course there is a great deal I miss about Africa, and times when London seems intolerably tame, but there are also many times when I look around at the greenness of gardens and the freshness of spring flowers, the gracious buildings, and know how much permanent and civilized life there is behind the facades, how much beauty and invention, and I am excited to be here too.”
She kept her eyes lowered. “Shall you be returning to Africa, Mr. Mitchell?”
“One day, I imagine,” he replied quite casually.
“But you have no immediate plans?” She held her breath for his reply.
“None,” he said with a lift of amusement in his voice.
“Of course,” she said very gently. “Mrs. Arledge will be so glad. But then you would hardly have left her.” She looked up swiftly to catch his expression.
There was not the faintest guilt in it, only complete incomprehension.
“I beg your pardon?” he said, frowning a trifle.
She had never felt more completely foolish in her life. She had flirted shamelessly with a thoroughly decent man, and wittered on as if her brain were stuffed with feathers, and now she could think of no graceful way whatever of extricating herself.
“Oh …” She struggled desperately. “I fear I have expressed myself very badly. I think I have misunderstood something that was said to me. Please forgive me.” She did not dare to look at him, and she had temporarily entirely forgotten Mina’s presence.
But he would not let her escape so easily.
“Mrs. Arledge?” he questioned.
“Yes—I …” She trailed off. There was nothing whatever which could explain her remark.
“She seems a woman of some dignity,” he went on. “But not someone with whom I have any but the briefest and most formal acquaintance. In fact I think the Requiem service for her husband was the only occasion in which I have met her. Do you know her well?”
“No! I—I gathered the impression you were … but it must have been someone else. I daresay I was not listening properly, and misheard or misunderstood. I am so sorry.” At last she looked up and met his eyes. “Please forget I spoke. It was most foolish of me.”
“Of course, if you wish.”
“Do have some more lemonade,” Mina offered, speaking for the first time since the subject of Africa had been raised. She had been listening with attention and pleasure, but had not interrupted. Now she lifted the silver jug invitingly.
“No thank you. It is most kind, but I must be leaving.” Charlotte rose to her feet with rather more haste than grace. She was aching to escape. “I do not wish to outstay what has been a most delightful visit. Thank you so much for receiving me so generously when I called entirely without warning or invitation. I really only wished to tell you that your advice has been most successful, and I am truly obliged to you.”
“It was a trifling thing,” Mina said with a wave of her hand. “I am delighted if it worked out to your liking.”
“Perhaps—in a little while, later on, you will be kind enough to call?” Charlotte invited her, offering one of her newly printed cards with the new address upon it. Only after Mina had taken it did she remember that in all probability she and Pitt would no longer be there. Not unless they were a great deal more successful than so far in solving the case.
“Perhaps you will call upon us again, Mrs. Pitt?” Bart asked with a smile that did not conceal a genuine wish.
“Thank you,” she accepted, vowing to herself never to set foot in the place again. “I shall look forward to it!”
She fled out into the hall and out of the door as the maid opened it for her, and walked with indecent haste along the footpath towards the main thoroughfare and the first omnibus she could find.
Emily, on the other hand, had no trepidation whatever in finding Landon Hurlwood. It required a little more ingenuity to discover where he would be. Once that was accomplished she dressed in the height of fashion, in a white muslin with sprigs of Delft blue, pointed at the top of the shoulder, broad sleeved, and a marvelous hat with high crown and one ostrich feather over the brim, and called her carriage.
It necessitated the most precise timing in order to catch him. In fact she had to have her carriage stand still, causing some obstruction, for a full fifteen minutes, before she saw him leave his offices in Whitehall and head for Trafalgar Square. Fortunately it was the nicest of spring weather, and not at all a miserable day in which to walk.
