“Alone?”
“Yes.” Charlotte looked down. She remembered with pain, and now guilt, the scene of such a short time ago. It was impossible to understand how the whole of one’s life could change so quickly.
“Why?”
She looked back at him. “I offered to go with her, but she preferred to go alone. She wanted to speak to Martha Prebble in private, and then perhaps to go on and do some parish visiting.” She found it hard to speak; her throat ached and she had to stop.
“She did a lot of parish work,” Emily said quietly.
“Parish work? You mean she visits the poor, the sick?” Unconsciously he used the present tense.
“Yes.”
“Do you know whom she intended to visit yesterday?”
“No. What did Martha say? Mrs. Prebble.”
“That Sarah mentioned several people to her, but that she left the vicar’s house quite late, and she did not say precisely whom she meant to visit, or in which order. Mrs. Prebble herself was feeling unwell, and said she advised her against going alone, but Sarah would not listen. Apparently there were several sick. . ” His voice trailed off.
“Do you think. . ” she began, “. . just chance?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. Possibly he was just waiting for someone-anyone-”
“Then how in God’s name will you ever find him?” Edward shouted. “You can hardly fill the streets with policemen till he strikes again. He’ll merely wait until you leave. He could walk past you, speak to you, tip his hat, and you wouldn’t even know him from-from the vicar, or one of your own!”
No one answered him.
“You said she did a great deal of parish work lately?” Pitt began again. “Did she do it at regular times, and always with the same people?”
Dominic stared at him. “You think he wanted. . Sarah? I mean Sarah, in particular?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Corde. Do you know anyone who loved or hated her enough to do that?”
“Loved!” Dominic said incredulously. “God! Do you mean me?”
It was the first time anyone had said it aloud. Charlotte looked at their faces, trying to see who had thought of it before. It looked as if only Papa had not. She looked back at Pitt, waiting.
“I don’t know who I mean, Mr. Corde, or the hunt would be over.”
“But it could be me!” Dominic’s voice rose in hysteria. “Even though it was Sarah this time, you still think it could be me!”
“Are you sure it isn’t?”
Dominic looked at him in silence for several moments. “Unless I’m completely insane, capable of becoming another person I know nothing of, I couldn’t have hurt Sarah. I’m not really sure how much I loved her, how much I love anyone, but far too much to have hurt her deliberately. Accidentally-I know-and through stubbornness, both of us-but not, not anything like that.”
Charlotte could not keep the tears back. If only Sarah could have known that much for certain. Why is it that one does not tell people things while there is time? One lets such trivial things matter.
Now she must not upset all the others by weeping in front of them. She stood up.
“Excuse me,” she said quickly and walked out; to run would betray her need and its urgency.
It was not Dominic Emily was afraid for, but her father. She had never considered the existence of a darker side to her sister’s husband. He was no more than he seemed to be; handsome, pleasant-natured if a little spoiled, witty when he chose, and quite often kind-but also without great imagination. It was funny that Charlotte should have fallen in love with him. He was utterly wrong for her and would have made her dreadfully unhappy. He would never have matched her depth of feeling and she would have spent her whole life seeking for something that was not there.
But Papa was quite different. There were obviously hungers in him that none of them had recognized before. And he had been either unwilling or unable to prevent himself from satisfying them.
Was the woman in Cater Street the only one? She was an old woman now, according to Sarah. When Papa had finished with her, who had replaced her? That was something that she thought had not occurred to the others.
But it occurred to Emily as she sat sewing in the afternoon, and she wondered if it would occur to Pitt when he found out, which he undoubtedly would, either from some gossip in the neighbourhood about Sarah’s visit, or from some slip of the tongue by one of the servants, or possibly even from Charlotte. She was about as transparent as water! Or perhaps he had even been to speak to the woman himself. He might be inelegant, and of very ordinary birth, but he was far from stupid.
Anyway, Emily thought, she had better accustom herself to thinking well of him, because no doubt he would have the courage to make an offer for Charlotte, and she might well take him if she had the courage and the sense. Papa would hum and haw, and Grandmama would have a fit, but that did not matter.
Unless of course Papa really had done something more serious than keep a mistress, or even a series of mistresses? In which case they would all be ruined and the question of marriage to anyone would be moot. Surely he could not have? She could not really believe it, but neither could she dismiss the fear from the back of her mind until she had done something about it. She knew that he was alone in the library. The abominable vicar would be duty-bound to call some time today or tomorrow, now that the police had gone, for the time being at least. Better to get this over with.
Edward looked up with surprise when she went into the library. “Emily? Are you seeking something to read?”
“No,” she sat down in the other big leather chair opposite him.
“What then? You find it hard to be alone? I confess, I’m glad of your company also.”
She smiled very slightly. This was going to be harder than she had anticipated.
“Papa?”
“Yes, my dear?” How very tired he looked. She had forgot how old he was.
“Papa, the woman in Cater Street-how long is it since she was your mistress?” Better to be direct. She could be devious with most people, but she had never been able to deceive him with any success.
“How very like Charlotte you are at times,” he smiled with profound regret, and she knew instinctively he was thinking neither of her nor of Charlotte, but of Sarah.
“How long?” she repeated. It had to be got over now; to have to try again would only extend the pain.
He looked at her. Was he weighing up how much she knew? Whether even now he could lie, evade?
“We know about her,” she said cruelly. “Sarah went to visit her, as a charity. She discovered the truth. Please Papa, don’t make it worse?” Her voice wavered. She hated doing this, but the doubt hurt even more. The suspense was a cancer deeper than the clean wound of knowing. She must not let him lie now, degrade himself.
He was still looking at her. She wanted to shut her eyes, to withdraw the question, but she knew it was too late.
He gave in. “A long time,” he answered with a little sigh. “It was all very brief, that part of it. It was all over a year or two after you were born. But I still liked her. Your mother was often busy-with you. You didn’t know her then, but she was not unlike Sarah; a little stubborn, always thinking she knew best.” Suddenly his eyes filled with tears and Emily looked away, to save him embarrassment. She stood up and walked to the window, to give him time to regain his control.
“Was there anyone after her?” she asked. Better to get it all over in one attempt.
“No,” he sounded surprised. “Of course not! Why do you ask, Emily?”
She wanted to think of a lie quickly, so that he should not ever know what she had suspected. Idiotically, now she wanted to protect him. She had thought she would never forgive him for having hurt Mama, but instead here she was wanting to shield him as if he had been the injured one. She did not understand herself, which was a new experience, but not an entirely unpleasant one.
“For Mama, of course,” she answered. “One can overlook one mistake, especially if it happened a long time ago. One cannot forget something that has been repeated over and over again.”
“Do you think your mother will feel the same way?” His voice sounded pathetically hopeful. She was a little embarrassed by it.
