at a more fortunate time-and in a more civilized manner.”
For a moment he thought neither of them was going to take any notice of him. They stood glaring at each other with the violence of feeling as ugly as that between Pascoe and Dalgetty. Then slowly Shaw relaxed, and as if Hatch had suddenly ceased to be of any importance, turned his back on him and bent down to Dalgetty’s wound again.
Hatch, his face like gray granite, his eyes blazing, swiveled on his heel, tearing up the grass, and marched along the footpath back towards the road.
Maude Dalgetty went, not to her husband, with whom she was obviously out of patience, but to Prudence Hatch, and gently put her arm around her.
10
“I suppose we should have expected it-had we bothered to take the matter seriously at all,” Aunt Vespasia said when Charlotte told her about the duel in the field. “One might have hoped they would have more sense, but had they any proportion in things in the first place, they would not have become involved in such extremes of opinion. Some men lose track of reality so easily.”
“Thomas said they were both injured,” Charlotte went on. “Quite unpleasantly. I knew they said a great deal about the subject of freedom of expression, and the need to censor certain ideas in the public interest, but I did not expect it to come to actual physical harm. Thomas was very angry indeed-it all seems so farcical, in the face of real tragedy.”
Vespasia sat very upright and her concentration seemed to be entirely inward, as if she did not see the graciousness of the room around her, or the gentle movement of the bronzing beech leaves outside the window, dappling the light.
“Failure, disillusion and love rejected can all make us behave in ways that seem absurd, my dear-perhaps loneliness most of all. It does not lessen the pain in the slightest, even if you are one who is able to laugh while you weep. I have thought at times that laughter is man’s greatest salvation-and at other times that it is what damns him beneath the animals. Beasts may kill one another, they may ignore the sick or distressed-but they never mock. Blasphemy is a peculiarly human ability.”
Charlotte was confused for a moment. Vespasia had taken the thought much further than anything she had intended. Perhaps she had overdramatized the scene.
“The whole quarrel was about the rights of censorship,” she said, starting to explain herself. “That wretched monograph of Amos Lindsay’s, which is academic now, since the poor man is dead anyway.”
Vespasia stood up and walked over towards the window.
“I thought it was the question as to whether some men have the right to make mock of other men’s gods, because they believe them to be either vicious or absurd-or simply irrelevant.”
“One has the right to question them,” Charlotte said with irritation. “One must, or there will be no progress of ideas, no reforming. The most senseless ideologies could be taught, and if we cannot challenge them, how are we to know whether they are good or evil? How can we test our ideas except by thinking-and talking?”
“We cannot,” Vespasia replied. “But there are many ways of doing it. And we must take responsibility for what we destroy, as well as for what we create. Now tell me, what was it Thomas said about Prudence Hatch being so mesmerized with fright? Did she imagine Shaw was going to let slip some appalling secret?”
“That is what Thomas thought-but he has never persuaded Shaw to tell him anything at all that would indicate any secret he knows worth killing to hide.”
Vespasia turned to face Charlotte.
“You have met the man-is he a fool?”
Charlotte thought for several seconds, visualizing Shaw’s dynamic face with its quick, clear eyes, the power in him, the vitality that almost overflowed.
“He’s extremely intelligent,” she replied frankly.
“I daresay,” Vespasia agreed dryly. “That is not the same thing. Many people have high intelligence and no wisdom at all. You have not answered me.”
Charlotte smiled very slighuy. “No, Aunt Vespasia, I am not sure that I can. I don’t think I know.”
“Then perhaps you had better find out.” Vespasia arched her brows very gently but her eyes were unwavering.
Very reluctantly Charlotte rose to her feet, a quiver of excitement inside her, and a very real sense of fear which was getting larger with every moment. This time she could not hide behind a play of innocence as she had done so often in the past when meddling in Pitt’s cases. Nor would she go with some slight disguise as she had often done, the pretense of being some gentlewoman of no account, up from the country, and insinuate herself into a situation, then observe. Shaw clearly knew exactly who she was and the precise nature of her interest. To try to deceive him would be ridiculous and demean them both.
She must go, if she went at all, quite openly as herself, frank about her reasons, asking questions without opportunity of camouflage or retreat. How could she possibly behave in such a way that it would be anything but intrusive and impertinent-and hideously insensitive?
It was on the edge of her tongue to make an excuse, simply say all that was in her mind; then she saw Vespasia’s slender shoulders stiff as a general commanding a charge to battle, and her eyes as steady as a governess controlling a nursery. Insubordination was not even to be considered. Vespasia had already understood all her arguments, and would accept none of them.
“ ‘England expects that every man will do his duty,’ ” Charlotte said with a ghost of a smile.
A spark of laughter lit Vespasia’s eyes.
“Quite,” she agreed relentiessly. “You may take my carriage.”
“Thank you, Aunt Vespasia.”
Charlotte arrived at the lodging house where Shaw was temporarily resident exactly as the landlady was serving luncheon. This was ill-mannered in the extreme, but most practical. It was probably the only time when she could have found him present and not either in the act of repacking his bag to leave again or trying to catch up with his notes and messages.
He was obviously surprised to see her, when the landlady showed her in, but the expression on his face showed far more pleasure than irritation. If he minded being interrupted in his meal he hid it with great skill.
“Mrs. Pitt. How very agreeable to see you.” He rose, setting his napkin aside, and came around to greet her, holding out his hand and taking hers in a strong, warm grip.
“I apologize for calling at such an inconvenient time.” She was embarrassed already, and she had not yet even begun. “Please do not allow me to spoil your luncheon.” It was a fatuous remark. She had already done so by her mere presence. Whatever she said, he would not allow her to wait in the parlor while he ate in the dining room, and even if he were to, it could hardly be a comfortable repast in such circumstances. She felt her face coloring with awareness of the clumsy way she had begun. How could she possibly ask him all the intimate and personal questions she wished? Whether she ever learned if he was a fool-in Aunt Vespasia’s terms of reference-she herself most certainly was.
“Have you eaten?” he asked, still holding her hand.
She seized the opportunity he offered.
“No-no, I have somehow mislaid time this morning, and it is much later than I had realized.” It was a lie, but a very convenient one.
“Then Mrs. Turner will fetch you something, if you care to join me.” He indicated the table set for one. Whatever other lodgers there were resident, they appeared to take their midday meal elsewhere.
“I would not dream of inconveniencing Mrs. Turner.” She had only one answer open to her. She cooked herself; she knew perfectly well any woman with the slightest economy in mind did not prepare more than she knew would be required. “She cannot have been expecting me. But I should be most happy to take a cup of tea, and perhaps a few slices of bread and butter-if she would be so good. I had a late breakfast, and do not wish for a full meal.” That was not true either, but it would serve. She had eaten a considerable number of tomato sandwiches at Aunt Vespasia’s.
