“Yes, my dear?”
“Are you not relieved? The police do not suspect Maddock. Inspector Pitt said as much.”
“Then whom do they suspect?” Sarah asked. “Or didn’t they tell you that?”
“Of course they didn’t!” Edward frowned. “I’m surprised they told her so much. Are you sure you understood correctly? It was not perhaps wishful thinking?”
It was almost as if they did not want to believe her.
“No, I didn’t misunderstand. He was perfectly plain.”
“What exactly did he say?” Caroline asked quietly.
“I can’t remember, but I was not mistaken in his meaning, of that I am perfectly sure.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Sarah said, putting down her sewing. She sewed very beautifully; Charlotte had envied her that for as long as she could remember. “Now perhaps the police won’t return.”
Emily smiled. “Yes, they will.”
“What for, if they don’t suspect Maddock?”
“To see Charlotte, of course. Inspector Pitt admires Charlotte greatly.”
Edward drew in a sharp breath. “Emily, this is not an occasion for frivolity. And the less fortunate imaginings of some policeman are not of interest to us. No doubt many men of ordinary background admire women who are above them, but have more sense than to let it be known.”
“But the police have no reason to come back, no real reason,” Sarah pressed.
“That is the most real of reasons,” Emily was not easily suppressed. “Crimes come and go; loves last longer.”
“Some do,” Dominic said drily.
“Well, it’s obviously someone from the criminal classes,” Sarah said, ignoring them both. “I don’t know why they even considered it could be otherwise. It seems incompetent to me.”
“No,” Charlotte said quickly. “It isn’t!”
Edward turned to her in surprise.
“Isn’t what, my dear?”
“Isn’t someone from the criminal classes. They only kill if they can’t help it, either to escape or something of that sort, or else for revenge. They only attack people they don’t know in order to rob. And Lily was not robbed.”
“How do you know all this?”
Charlotte was conscious that they were all looking at her. “Inspector Pitt told me. And it makes sense.”
“I don’t know why you should expect the criminal classes to make sense,” Sarah was impatient. “It will be some lunatic, someone who is quite depraved and does not know what he is doing.” She shivered.
“Poor devil,” Dominic spoke with feeling, and Charlotte was surprised by it. Why should he have such pity for a creature who had horribly killed three times?
“Spare your concern for Lily and Chloe and the Hiltons’ maid,” Edward said with a little snort.
Dominic looked around.
“Why? They’re dead. This poor animal is still alive, at least I presume he is.”
“Stop it!” Edward said sharply. “You’ll frighten the girls.”
Dominic gazed round at them. “I’m sorry. Although I think this is a time when a little fear might save your life.” He turned his head to Charlotte. “So Pitt doesn’t think it’s some madman from the underworld. What
There was only one conclusion. She faced it as calmly as she could, but her voice still shook.
“He must think it is someone who lives here, somewhere near Cater Street.”
“Nonsense!” Edward sat up sharply. “I’ve lived here all my life. I know just about everyone within a radius of-of miles. There is no-lunatic of such monstrous proportions in this neighbourhood. Good heavens, if there were, does he not think we should know it? Such a creature could hardly pass unnoticed! He could not appear to be like the rest of us.”
Couldn’t he? Charlotte looked at him, then surreptitiously at Dominic. How much of people really showed in their faces? Did any of them even guess the wildness of feeling in her? Please heaven, no! If such madness, such tormented hatred as this creature felt was there to see, why was this man not known already? He must be seen by someone-family, wife, friends? What did they think, if they knew? Could you know something like that about someone, and not speak? Or would you refuse to believe it, turn away from the evidence, construe it as meaning something else?
What would she do-if she loved someone? If it were Dominic, would she not protect him from everything, die to do it, if necessary?
What a monstrous thought! As if anyone remotely like Dominic could have been involved in violence, the obscene anger that drove one to terrify and destroy, to linger in shadows along the street walls, hungering after fear.
What kind of man was he? She could only see him as a black shadow against mists. Had Lily seen his face? Had any of them? If she saw it herself, would it be a face she knew-a new nightmare, or a familiar one?
They were talking round her. She had missed it. Why did they accept that it could be Maddock so easily? It was almost as if they were grateful for a solution, as if any solution were better than none.
No, that was dreadful. But in spite of herself she could understand it. The suspicion was gone. Any knowledge, any fact to face was better than wondering, knowing he was still out there in the gaslit streets. Whatever the known was, it was better than the unknown, better than the police here, asking questions, suspecting.
She could understand, but at the same time she was ashamed of them for it, of herself for not saying something, exposing it. In a way she was allowing it, allowing them all to deceive themselves.
The conversation flowed round her and she had no heart to join in.
Emily had no such thoughts. And the following day the whole sordid business had receded to the dimension of a mere practical problem. Of course she was sorry about Lily, but Lily was beyond help now, and grieving would do her no good. Emily had never understood mourning. The most peculiar thing about it was that it was the most pious people who indulged in it, those who should have been the ones to rejoice! After all, they preached heaven and hell loudly enough. Surely to mourn was the gravest insult one could pay to the dead? It presupposed judgment was going to find them light in the balance.
Lily had been ordinary enough, but there was nothing in her to warrant damnation, so one could presume she was in a better place. Whatever sins she had committed, and they could only be small, were surely washed clean by the payment of her life.
So the whole matter was better forgotten, except for the rather squalid business of discovering who killed her. And that was the job of the police. All she and her family could do was take sufficient care to see they did not get in the way of this lunatic’s garotting wire.
The practical matters of real importance were the positive ones, such as discovering what everyone might wear at the party to be given by a certain Major and Mrs. Winter, to which George Ashworth was to escort her. It would be a serious setback if she were to find her dress duplicated, or nearly so. She aimed ultimately to set fashion rather than follow it, but in the meantime she must judge it to a nicety, so as not to appear merely eccentric. She would have to consult the Misses Madison, and Miss Decker-without their being aware of it, of course.
The police did not return for several days. Apparently they were conducting their investigations elsewhere, probably going back to the earlier deaths, talking to the Abernathys and the Hiltons. The whole affair was not discussed openly again, although they nearly all found themselves saying small things, letting thoughts slip out. They were mostly expressions of relief that the police were out of the house and had transferred their unwelcome presence, with its attendant speculation and scandal, to someone else. The other feeling that came through was the continuing anxiety about what might happen next, where this creature might be, if it were actually conceivable that he came from the immediate neighbourhood-someone’s manservant, or a small trader?
Emily gathered all her information, and procured a magnificent gown in the palest lilac, with delicate silver trim. She was in particularly good health; her skin was clear, far better than the elder Miss Madison’s, and her eyes bright. She had excellent colour, not too high, and her hair for once did everything she wished.
Ashworth called for her in his coach, naturally paying his respects to the family before departing. Mama was
