embarrassed him.”
“No doubt.” Vespasia allowed a bleak spark of humor into her eyes for an instant. “Twenty years ago? Why now? The Irish are good at holding a grudge, or a favor, but they don’t wait on payment if they don’t have to.”
“ ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold’?” Charlotte suggested wryly.
“Cold, perhaps, my dear, but this would be frozen. There is more to it than a personal vengeance, but I do not know what. By the way, what has this to do with your maid leaving? Clearly there is something you have … forgotten … to tell me.”
Charlotte found herself uncomfortable. “Oh … Mr. Narraway called after dark, and clearly since the matter was of secrecy, for obvious reasons he closed the parlor door. I’m afraid Mrs. Waterman thought I was … am … a woman of dubious morals. She doesn’t feel she can remain in a household where the mistress has ‘goings-on,’ as she put it.”
“Then she is going to find herself considerably restricted in her choice of position,” Vespasia said waspishly. “Especially if her disapproval extends to the master as well.”
“She didn’t say.” Charlotte bit her lip, but couldn’t conceal her smile. “But she would be utterly scandalized, so much so that she might have left that night, out into the street alone, with her suitcase in her hand, if she had known that I promised Mr. Narraway that I would go to Ireland with him, to do whatever I can to find the truth and help him clear his name. I have to. His enemies are Thomas’s enemies, and Thomas will have no defense against them without Mr. Narraway there. Then what shall we do?”
Vespasia was silent for several moments. “Be very careful, Charlotte,” she said gravely. “I think you are unaware of how dangerous that could become.”
Charlotte clenched her hands. “What would you have me do? Sit here in London while Mr. Narraway is unjustly ruined, and then wait for Thomas to be ruined as well? At best he will be dismissed because he was Mr. Narraway’s man, and they don’t like him. At worst he may be implicated in the same embezzlement, and end up charged with theft.” Her voice cracked a little and she realized how tired she was, and how very frightened. “What would you do?”
Vespasia reached across and touched her very gently, just fingertip-to-fingertip. “Just the same as you, my dear. That’s not the same thing as saying that it is wise. It is simply the only choice you can live with.”
There was a tap on the door, and the maid announced that supper was ready. They ate in the small breakfast room. Slender-legged Georgian mahogany furniture glowed dark amid golden-yellow walls, as if they were dining in the sunset, although the curtains were closed and the only light came from the mounted gas brackets.
They did not resume the more serious conversation until they had returned to the sitting room and were assured of being uninterrupted.
“Do not forget for a moment that you are in Ireland,” Vespasia warned. “Or imagine it is the same as England. It is not. They wear their past more closely wound around themselves than we do. Enjoy it while you are there, but don’t let your guard down for a second. They say you need a long spoon to sup with the devil. Well, you need a strong head to dine with the Irish. They’ll charm the wits out of you, if you let them.”
“I won’t forget why I’m there,” Charlotte promised.
“Or that Victor knows Ireland very well, and the Irish also know him?” Vespasia added. “Do not underestimate his intelligence, Charlotte, or his vulnerability. By the way, you have not mentioned how you intend to carry this off without causing a scandal that might not damage Narraway’s good name any further, but would certainly ruin yours. I assume your sense of fear and injustice did not blind you to that?” There was no criticism in her voice, only concern.
Charlotte felt the blood hot in her face. “Of course not. I can’t take a maid, I don’t have one, or the money to pay her fare if I did. I am going to say I am Mr. Narraway’s sister—half sister. That will make it decent enough.”
A tiny smile touched the corners of Vespasia’s lips. “Then you had better stop calling him Mr.
Charlotte looked into Vespasia’s steady silver-gray eyes, and chose not to respond.
NARRAWAY CAME EARLY THE following morning in a hansom cab. When she answered the door he hesitated only momentarily. He did not ask her if she were certain of the decision. Perhaps he did not want to give her the chance to waver. He called the cabdriver to put her case on the luggage rack.
“Do you wish to go and say good-bye?” he asked her. His face looked bleak, with shadows under his eyes as if he had not slept in many nights. “There is time.”
“No thank you,” she answered. “I have already done so. And I hate long good-byes. I am quite ready to go.”
He nodded and walked behind her across the footpath. Then he helped her up onto the seat, going around to the other side to sit next to her. The cabbie apparently knew the destination.
She had already decided not to tell him that she had visited Vespasia. He might prefer to think Vespasia did not know of his dismissal. She also chose not to let him know of Mrs. Waterman’s suspicions. It could prove embarrassing, even as if she herself had considered the journey as something beyond business herself.
“Perhaps you would tell me something about Dublin,” she requested. “I have never been there, and I realize that beyond the fact that it is the capital of Ireland, I know very little.”
The idea seemed to amuse him. “We have a long train journey ahead of us, even on the fast train, and then a crossing of the Irish Sea. I hear that the weather will be pleasant. I hope so, because if it is rough, then it can be very violent indeed. There will be time for me to tell you all I know, from 7500 BC until the present day.”
She was amazed at the age of the city, but she would not allow him to see that he had impressed her so easily. It might look as if she were being deliberately gentle with the grief she knew he must be feeling.
“Really? Is that because our journey is enormously long after all, or because you know less than I had supposed?”
“Actually there is something of a gap between 7500 BC and the Celts arriving in 700 BC,” he said with a smile. “And after that not a great deal until the arrival of Saint Patrick in AD 432.”
