you want as I should use that cabbage tonight, or the turnips?”
“Both,” Charlotte replied absently, already absorbed in the newspapers herself.
Gracie accepted the dismissal and went back to the kitchen, turning the morning’s events over in her mind. It was a source of great satisfaction to her that she worked for a lady-a real lady-not one of your jumped-up social climbers as fancied theirselves better than they was, but one as was born into the Quality, and grew up in a house with real servants, a Staff, a butler as had a pantry of his own, and a separate cook and kitchenmaids and parlormaids and upstairs maids and the like-and footmen! None of Gracie’s sisters or friends had a mistress like that! Gracie enjoyed considerable distinction because of it, and was able to tell other girls what was what and how things should be done proper.
Of course Charlotte had come down in the world a bit since then; a policeman was not a gentleman-everyone knew that. But still there were times when it was very exciting! The tales she could tell-if she chose! But of course such things were far better hinted at than recounted in detail. She had her loyalties.
And, to tell the truth, she did not entirely approve of the way her mistress sometimes got herself involved in police goings-on. More than once she had actually had some face-to-face contact with people as had done murders. Looking for people like that, even if they turned out to be from the Quality, was no thing for a lady to do.
Gracie shook her head and tipped the turnips out into the sink and began to wash and peel them. Unless she was very mistaken in her judgment, her mistress was shaping up nicely to start meddling into something again. She had that restless look about her, fiddling with things and putting them down half done, writing letters to her sister Emily as was now Viscountess Ashworth. Married above herself, that one. Not that she wasn’t very nice, the few times that Gracie had seen her. More often Charlotte went to visit her at her grand house in Paragon Walk. And who could blame her for that?
Gracie drifted into a pleasant dream of what a Viscountess’s house might be like. No doubt she would have beautiful footmen, all tall and handsome, and wearing livery, too! A man did look good in livery, no matter what anyone said!
In the evening when Pitt came home, Charlotte was waiting for him. She had read the newspapers thoroughly because the appalling corpse had been discovered in Pitt’s area; she knew it was quite likely that the call he had received before dawn that morning had to do with the murder.
Of course the case was not one in which she would be able to give any help, unfortunately. She was ready for the challenge, even the danger of another investigation, but the man had been found in a location she knew nothing whatsoever about, except by repute. And Lambert Gardens, where apparently he had lived, was not part of her family’s social circle, so she could offer no assistance there either.
Still, perhaps if he was prepared to discuss it with her, she could at least use her wits. She had not been unskilled at divining motives in the past, and the nature of human beings had much in common whatever the circumstances.
She hurried to meet her husband as soon as she heard the front door close, even before Gracie could get there. She took his coat, hung it up to dry, and then turned immediately to kiss him. His face felt cold. She knew he must be tired; it was over twelve hours since he had left, without breakfast. Her senses told her to restrain her curiosity at least until he had finished supper. She led the way into the parlor and talked about nothing of consequence while Pitt thawed out in front of the fire until Gracie served the meal.
By nine o’clock she considered that tact had been paid more than its due. “The constable who came for you this morning,” she began. “Was that because of the corpse in the Devil’s Acre?”
A trace of bleak humor flickered across his face. When Charlotte tried being subtle with him, he usually saw through it, so she had abandoned the effort. Anyhow, she had not had time to prepare and approach the whole subject in a more devious fashion.
“Yes,” he said guardedly. “But Lambert Gardens, which is where he lived, is not your family’s social circle. There is nothing you can do to help.”
She was not tactically inept. “No, of course not,” she said. “But it is impossible not to be interested. The newspapers are full of it this evening.”
He pulled a face.
She changed her line of attack. “Do be careful, Thomas. It sounds as if there is some dreadful madman loose. I mean, it isn’t a sane sort of crime, is it? What do you suppose a man like Dr. Pinchin was doing in the Devil’s Acre anyway? Did he have a practice there? The newspapers said he was a very respectable man.” She was not entirely convinced; she had known plenty of “respectable” people herself. All the adjective really meant was that they were either clever enough or fortunate enough to have maintained an excellent facade. Behind it there might be anything at all.
Pitt smiled, his eyes uncomfortably clear. “Thank you, my dear, but you have no need to be anxious for me. I don’t expect to prowl the Acre alone. I shall be in no danger from madmen.”
She debated whether to be hurt and pretend he had misunderstood her, but decided rapidly that it would not work. “Of course not,” she said. “Perhaps I was being silly. I dare say Dr. Pinchin was not nearly as respectable as the newspapers suggested. After all, they would have to be very careful of what they said, and the poor man is only just dead.” She looked up, wide-eyed and totally candid. “Did he have a family?”
“Charlotte!”
“Yes, Thomas?”
He let out his breath in a sigh. “This is not a case you can involve yourself in. Dr. Pinchin was not the only victim-he was the second that we know of, and whatever is going on, it has its cause in the Devil’s Acre. The other body was found there, too. It is not a domestic crime, Charlotte. It does not involve the sort of motives you are good at.”
She ignored the compliment. “Another one? I didn’t know that! The newspapers didn’t say anything. Are you keeping it secret? Who was it?”
There was a momentary flash of irritation in his face. Charlotte was not sure whether it was directed at her or at circumstances.
Pitt waited several seconds before he answered, and when he did there was resignation in his voice. “Actually, it was someone you have already met.”
Shock tingled through her, not unmixed with a sense of excitement that she was ashamed of the instant after she felt it.
“I’ve met?” she repeated incredulously.
“Do you remember General Balantyne-in Callander Square?”
The excitement turned to horror so intense it almost made her sick. The room swam and she thought she was going to faint. To imagine the general, with his fierce, inarticulate pride, his loneliness, his veneration of duty- how could he have descended to the Devil’s Acre to die not in service or battle but exposed in such a horrible manner.
“Charlotte!”
Surely there must be some way it could be kept quiet? It was the last way on earth such a man deserved to die!
“Charlotte!” Pitt’s voice cut through her thoughts.
She looked up.
“It wasn’t Balantyne!” he said sharply. “It was his old footman, Max-do you remember Max?”
Of course! How could she have been so ridiculous? She took a deep gulp of air. “Max-yes, of course I remember Max. Perfectly odious. He always gave me the feeling that when he looked at me he could see through my clothes.”
Pitt’s face dropped in alarm, then changed to a wide-eyed amusement. “How graphic! I had no idea you were so perceptive.”
She felt herself coloring. She had not meant to let him know she understood that look so well, especially in the eyes of a footman. She ought not have!
“Well …” She attempted an explanation, and gave it up.
He waited, but Charlotte refused to dig herself in any more deeply. “What was Max doing in the Devil’s Acre?” she asked. “I didn’t think people in that sort of area had footmen.”
“They don’t. He was keeping a brothel-in fact, more than one.”
She maintained her composure. Over the years Charlotte had had cause, one way or another, to learn quite a
