his bath, unless the cook gives notice, I think we’ve achieved a full house! Unless of course someone decides to cheat at cards.”
“Don’t,” she said hoarsely. “Jack, don’t even whisper it!”
But her brave face did not last far beyond dinner, which she managed with supreme skill. Eudora took it in her room, but everyone else was present, and all behaved with dignity and passably civil conversation. It was afterwards, when she spoke to Pitt in the library, that she lost her composure and all her fear spilled through.
“What have you found out?” she asked sharply.
Pitt looked exhausted and deeply unhappy. His tie was coming undone, his jacket pockets were stuffed with bits of paper and his hair looked as if he had run his fingers through it a dozen times.
“It seems to have been Padraig Doyle, Fergal Moynihan, or one of the women,” he said wearily. “Or his son.”
“Doyle is his brother-in-law!” she exclaimed with disgust. “And it wouldn’t be his son, for heaven’s sake. It’s a political murder, Thomas. It must be Moynihan. Why not McGinley or O’Day?”
“Because they were seen elsewhere at the time.”
“Then it is Moynihan. He’s already been caught in bed with McGinley’s wife. What makes you think he wouldn’t stoop to murder? Arrest him! Then at least Jack will be safe.”
“I can’t arrest him, Emily. There’s no proof he’s guilty ….”
“You’ve just said he is!” she shouted. “It has to be him. Or else one of the servants. What is Tellman doing? Can’t he find out whether it was a servant? They all have duties. They ought to be able to account for where they were. What have you been doing all day?”
Pitt opened his mouth to speak.
Behind Emily the library door creaked, but she did not bother to turn to see who it was. Her mind was filled with fear for Jack.
“You were no use at looking after Greville, you could at least do something to protect Jack! You shouldn’t have let him accept the task. Why didn’t you tell Cornwallis how dangerous it was? Arrest Moynihan before you get Jack killed as well!”
Charlotte walked over to the vase of chrysanthemums on the small table and yanked the flowers out, holding the jug of water in her other hand. She stood opposite Emily, her face flushed, her eyes dark with rage.
“Hold your tongue,” she said with a low, barely controlled voice. “Unless you want this water all over you.”
“Don’t you dare!” Emily snapped back. “Jack’s in terrible danger, and Thomas won’t lift a—”
Charlotte threw the water and Emily was drenched. She gasped in sheer amazement.
Pitt put out his hand as if to restrain someone, then dropped it again, his eyes wide.
“Stop thinking of yourself!” Charlotte said. “Thomas can’t arrest anyone until he has proof who’s guilty. It might be someone else, and then where will we all be? Use your common sense, and try to think and watch!”
Emily was so furious she was speechless, most immediately because there was nothing at hand to throw back. She spun on her heel and stormed out of the room and strode upstairs, along the landing, and into her bedroom, slamming the door with a resounding crash. Then she threw herself onto her bed and lay there, wretched. She had been unfair to Jack, and now she had been unfair to Pitt as well. He must be feeling dreadful. He could not have foreseen a murder from inside the house, any more than anyone else could have. And she had quarreled with Charlotte, whom she needed more than ever before.
It had been one of the worst days of her life. And tomorrow would probably be no better.
5
P
Then he remembered what had happened the previous day, the screaming, and Ainsley Greville’s body with its face under the water. It was someone in the house who had killed him, one of the guests. McGinley had been in his room talking to the valet Hennessey; O’Day had seen them. That meant all three of them were excluded. Physically, it could have been any of the others, although a man was far more likely, which left Fergal Moynihan, brother-in-law Doyle, or Piers. It was beginning to look more and more like Moynihan, except that Moynihan seemed to have abandoned his passionate Protestantism and all its precepts in his affair with Iona McGinley.
Could a man possibly be so double in his thinking? Fergal was committing adultery, a violation of one of the strictest commandments of his faith, and with a Catholic woman. Was it conceivable he would commit murder, against the greatest commandment of all, to preserve his faith from the continuation of popery?
Or was the preservation of Protestantism nothing to do with religion in his mind? Was it simply land, money, and power?
There were factors, perhaps major ones, Pitt did not yet know.
Charlotte was still asleep, warm and huddled up. He had been half aware of her moving restlessly during the night, turning over, pushing the pillows around. She was frightened for him. She had not said so. She had pretended she was perfectly confident, but he knew her better than to be deceived. There were mannerisms she had, a way of twisting her rings and tightening her shoulders, when she was worried.
Emily was frightened too, for Jack. He could hardly blame her. Jack was possibly in danger.
He slid out of bed. The fire had long gone out and it was cold. What was worse was that this morning, with the revelation of identity, he could hardly expect Tellman to fetch him any hot water.
He walked barefoot into the dressing room, which was also bitter, and started to put on his clothes. He could
