however tragic. Oh!” Her face fell with sudden awful comprehension. “Do you think it is conceivable that that is why poor Lindsay was murdered? So we might well assume Clemency’s death was unintended? How cold-bloodedly deliberate.”
“I am going to find out,” Charlotte said quietly with a little shiver. “As soon as Percival arrives with the carriage, I shall take the children to Mama’s, and we shall begin.”
“Fetch what they require,” Vespasia commanded. “And I shall take them with me on my return. I have no errands until this evening when the House rises.”
Charlotte got to her feet. “Somerset Carlisle?”
“Just so. If we are to fight against the slum profiteers, we require to know the exact state of the law, and what it is most reasonable to expect we may achieve. One may assume that Clemency did much the same, and discovered some weakness in their position. We need to know what it was.”
Gracie was scrubbing so hard the board was rattling in the tub.
“Stop that now, child!” Vespasia ordered. “I can hardly hear myself think! Put it through that contraption and hang it up. I am sure it is clean enough. For goodness sake, they are only bed sheets! Then when you have done that, go and tidy yourself up and put on a coat, and a hat if you have one. Your mistress will require you to accompany her to Highgate.”
“Yes ma’am!” Gracie heaved the entire lot of linen up, standing on tiptoe to get it clear of the water, dropped it in the clean water in the opposite tub, pulled the plug, then began to pay it through the mangle, winding like fury in her excitement.
Vespasia seemed completely unaware that she had just given a complete hour’s instructions to someone else’s servant. It seemed common sense, and that was sufficient to justify it.
“Go upstairs to the nursery and pack whatever is necessary,” she continued, speaking to Charlotte in almost the same tone of voice. “For several days. You do not want to be anxious for them while you are endeavoring to unravel this matter.”
Charlotte obeyed with a very slight smile. She did not resent being ordered around; it was what she would have done anyway, and the familiarity with which Vespasia did it was a kind of affection, also an unspoken trust that they were involved in the affair together and desired the same end.
Upstairs she found Jemima solemnly practicing her writing. She had progressed from the stage of rather carefully drawing letters and now she did them with some abandon, confident she was making words, and of their meaning. Sums she was considerably less fond of.
Daniel was still struggling, and with immeasurable superiority now and again Jemima gave him assistance, explaining carefully precisely what he must do, and why. He bore it with placid good nature, imitating her round script and concealing both his ignorance and his admiration behind a frown of attention. It can be very difficult being four and having a sister two years older.
“You are going to stay with Grandmama for a few days,” Charlotte informed them with a bright smile. “You will enjoy it very much. You can take your lessons with you if you wish, but you don’t have to do them more than an hour or two in the mornings. I shall explain why you are not at school. If you are good, Grandmama might take you for a carriage ride, to the zoo perhaps?”
She had their immediate cooperation, as she had intended. “You will be going with Great-Aunt Vespasia, who is ready to take you as soon as you are packed. She is a very important lady indeed, and you must do everything exactly as she tells you.”
“Who is Great Vepsia?” Daniel asked curiously, his face puckered up trying to remember. “I only ’member Aunt Emily.”
“She is Aunt Emily’s aunt,” Charlotte simplified for the sake of clarity, and to avoid mentioning George, whom Jemima at least could recall quite clearly. She did not understand death, except in relation to small animals, but she knew loss.
Daniel seemed satisfied, and rapidly Charlotte set about putting into a Gladstone bag everything they would require. When it was fastened she made sure they were clean and wrapped up in coats and that their gloves were attached to their cuffs, their shoes buttoned, their hair brushed and their scarves tied. Then she took them downstairs to where Vespasia was waiting, still seated in the kitchen chair.
They greeted her very formally, Daniel half a step behind Jemima, but as she took out her lorgnette to regard them, they were so fascinated by it they forgot to be shy. Charlotte had no qualms as she watched them mount into the carriage, with considerable assistance from the footman, and depart along the street.
Gracie was so excited she could hardly hold her comb in her hand to tidy her hair, and her fingers slipped and made a knot in the strings of her bonnet which she would probably have to cut with scissors ever to get it off again. But what did it matter? She was going with the mistress to help her detect! She had very little clear idea of what it would involve, but it would absolutely without question be marvelously interesting and very important. She might learn secrets and make discoveries concerning issues of such magnitude that people were prepared to commit murder in their cause. And possibly it would even be dangerous.
Of course she would walk a couple of steps behind, and only speak when she was invited to; but she would watch and listen all the time, and notice everything that anyone said or did, even the way their faces looked. Maybe she would notice something vital that no one else did.
It was some two hours later when Charlotte and Gracie descended from the second carriage. They were handed down by Percival, to Gracie’s intense delight; she had never ridden in a proper carriage before, still less been assisted by another servant. They walked up the path to St. Anne’s Church side by side at Charlotte’s insistence, in hope of finding someone there who might guide them in matters of parish relief, and thus to a more precise knowledge of Clemency Shaw’s interest in housing.
Charlotte had given the matter a good deal of thought. She did not wish to be open about her intentions and it had been necessary to construct a believable story. She had tussled with the problem without success until Gracie, biting her lip and not wishing to be impertinent, had suggested they inquire about a relative who had been thrown on the parish as a result of widowhood, which they had just heard about and were anxious to help.
Charlotte had thought this so unlikely to be true that even Hector Clitheridge would doubt it, but then Gracie had pointed out that her Aunt Bertha had been in just such a predicament, and Gracie had indeed heard about it only two weeks ago. Then Charlotte realized what she meant, and seized upon the idea instantly.
“O’ course me Aunt Bertha din’t live in ’Ighgate,” Gracie said honestly. “She lived in Clerkenwell-but then they dunno that.”
And so after learning that there was no one in at the parsonage, they repaired to the church of St. Anne’s itself, and found Lally Clitheridge arranging flowers in the vestry. She turned at the sound of the door opening, a look of welcome on her face. Then she recognized Charlotte and the smile froze. She kept the Michaelmas daisy in her hand and did not move from the bench.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Pitt. Are you looking for someone?”
“I expect you could help me, if you would be so kind,” Charlotte answered, forcing a warmth into her voice which did not come naturally in the face of Lally’s chill gaze.
“Indeed?” Lally looked beyond her at Gracie with slightly raised brows. “Is this lady with you?”
“She is my maid.” Charlotte was conscious as she said it of sounding a trifle pompous, but there was no other reasonable answer.
“Good gracious!” Lally’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you unwell?”
“I am perfectly well, thank you.” It was becoming harder and harder to keep an amiability in her tone. She wanted to tell Lally she owed her no account of her arrangements and would give none, but that would defeat her purpose. She needed at the least an ally, better still a friend. “It is on Gracie’s behalf we are here,” she continued her civil tone with an effort. “She has just heard that her uncle has died and left her aunt in very poor circumstances, most probably a charge on the parish. Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me which of the ladies in the neighborhood have been most involved in charitable works and might know of her whereabouts.”
Lally was quite obviously torn between her dislike for Charlotte and her compassion for Gracie, who was staring at her belligerently, but Lally apparently took it for well-controlled grief.
“You do not know her address?” She looked past Charlotte as if she had not been there. It was an excellent compromise.
Gracie’s mind was quick. “I know ’er old ’ouse, ma’am; but I’m afraid wot wif poor Uncle Albert bein’ took so sudden, and not much put by, that they might’a bin put out on the street. They’d ’ave no one to turn to, ’ceptin the
