Rutland Place

A completely random thought occurred to Pitt.

'Was your daughter well acquainted with Mr. Lagarde?'

'They had known each other for some time,' Lovell replied stiffly. 'But there was no'-he hesitated while he chose his word-'no fondness between them. Most unfortunate. It would have been an excellent match. My wife and I tried to encourage her, but Ottilie had no-' He stopped, his face hardening again. 'That is hardly pertinent to your inquiry, Inspector. Indeed, it is not pertinent to anything at all now. Forgive me, but I think you are wasting both your time and mine. There is nothing I can tell you. I bid you good day.'

Pitt considered whether to argue, to insist, but he did not believe that Lovell would tell him anything more.

He stood up. 'Thank you for your assistance. I hope it will not be necessary to trouble you again. Good day, sir.'

'I hope not indeed.' Lovell rose. 'The footman will show you out.'

Rutland Place was pale with watery sun. In one or two gar shy;dens green daffodil leaves stood like bayonets, yellow banners of bloom held above them. He wished people would not plant them in ranks, like an army.

Whether Mina Spencer-Brown had been right about the ugli shy;ness of its nature or not, there was certainly a mystery about Ottilie Charrington's death. She had neither died nor been buried where her family claimed.

Why should they lie? What really had killed her, and where?

The answer could only be that there was something so painful, or so appalling, that they dared not tell the truth.

8

For three days there was no progress at all. Pitt followed up every material clue he could find, and Sergeant Harris ques shy;tioned servants, both kitchen and outdoor. No one told them anything that seemed to be of importance. It became more and more apparent that Mina had been, as Charlotte guessed, an obsessive watcher. Little scraps of information, impressions gath shy;ered here and there gradually confirmed it. But what had she seen? Surely something more damning than merely the identity of a petty thief?

Then on the afternoon of the fourth day, a little after one o'clock, Charlotte was standing in the parlor opening the French doors onto the small back garden, breathing in the air that at last had warmth in it and the smell of sweet earth, when Gracie came in at a trot, her heels scuffing up the new rug.

'Oh, Mrs. Pitt, ma'am, there's a letter come for you by special footman, in a carriage and all, and he says it's terrible urgent. And please, ma'am, the carriage is still standing there in the street as large as life, and ever so grand!' She held out the envelope at arm's length for Charlotte to take.

A glance was sufficient to see that it was Caroline's writing. Charlotte tore the envelope open and read:

My dear Charlotte,

The most appalling thing has happened. I hardly know how to tell you, it seems so utterly tragic.

As you know, Eloise Lagarde was most distressed by Mina's death and the circumstances of it, and Tormod took her to their country house to rest and recover her spirits.

My dear Charlotte, they have returned this morning after the most dreadful accident I have ever known! I feel quite sick to think of it, it is almost past enduring. While out driving, returning from a picnic one evening with friends, poor Tormod was at the reins of the carriage and he slipped from the box and fell, right under the wheels. As if that in itself was not terrible enough, a group of friends were right behind them. It was past dusk, and they did not see what had happened! Charlotte, they drove ' straight over him! Horses and carriage!

That poor young man, hardly older than yourself, is crippled beyond any hope! He lies on his bed in Rutland Place and, for all we can believe or pray, will do so for the rest of his life!

I am so distressed I cannot think what to say or do. How can we help? What response is there in the face of such total tragedy?

I felt you would wish to know as soon as possible, and I have sent the carriage for you, in case you wish to come this afternoon. I would dearly like your company, even if only to share with someone my shock at such pain. Your father is at business and shall be dining out this evening, and Grandmama is of no comfort at all.

I have also written to Emily and sent the letter by messenger.

Your loving mother, Caroline Ellison.

Charlotte read the letter a second time, not that she doubted she had understood it, but to give herself time to allow its meaning, with the weight of pain it carried, to sink into her consciousness.

She tried to imagine the night, the dark road, Tormod Lagarde as she had last seen him, with his high, pale brow and wave of black hair, standing on the driving box; then perhaps a horse swerving, an unexpected turn in the road, and suddenly he was lying in the mud, the carriage above him, the noise and the rattle, the wheels passing over a leg or an arm, the crushing weight, bones snapped. A moment's silence, the night sky, and then the smashing, pummeling hooves of the other carriage and the crushing weight, agony as his body was broken-

Dear God! Better, infinitely more merciful, if he had been killed outright, simply never to have known sensibility or light again.

'Ma'am?' Grade's voice came urgently. 'Ma'am? Are you all right? You look terrible white! I think as you ought to sit down. I'll get the salts, and a good cup of tea!' She turned to go, determined to rise to the occasion and do something useful.

'No!' Charlotte said at last. 'No, thank you, Gracie. It's all right. I'm not going to faint. It is most terrible news, but it is an acquaintance, not a member of my family or a close friend. I shall go and call upon my mother this afternoon. It is a friend of hers. I cannot say how long I shall be. I must put on something more suitable than this dress. It is far too cheerful. I have a dark dress which is quite smart. If the master comes home before I do, please show him this letter. I'll put it in the desk.'

'You look terrible pale, ma'am,' Gracie said anxiously. 'I think as you should have a nice cup of tea before you goes anywhere. And shall I ask the footman if he'd like one too?'

Charlotte had forgotten the footman; indeed her mind had slipped back to the past and she had not even remembered that the carriage was not her own.

'Yes, yes, please do that. That would be excellent. I shall go upstairs and change, and you may bring my cup of tea there. Tell the footman I shall not be long.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

Caroline was very somber when Charlotte was shown in. For the first time since Mina's death, she was dressed in black and there was no lace at her throat.

'Thank you for coming so soon,' she said the moment the maid had closed the door. 'Whatever is happening to Rutland Place? It is one unspeakable tragedy after another!' She seemed unable to sit down; she held her hands tightly together and stood in the middle of the floor. 'Perhaps it is wicked of me to say so, but I feel as if in a way this is even worse than poor Mina! It is only what the servants say, and I should not listen to it, but it is the only way of hearing anything,' she excused herself quite honestly. 'According to Maddock, poor Tormod is'-she took a breath-'completely crushed! His back and his legs are broken.'

'It's not wicked, Mama.' Charlotte shook her head in a tiny gesture, putting out her arm to touch Caroline. 'If you have any faith, death cannot be so terrible-only, on occasion, the manner of it. And surely it would have been better, if he is as dreadfully injured as they say, that he should have died quickly? If he cannot recover? And I would not trust to Maddock for that. I daresay he got it from the cook, and she from one of the maids, who will have had it from an errand boy, and so on. Do you, intend to call, to express your sympathies?'

Caroline's head came up quickly. 'Oh yes, I feel that would only be civil. One would not stay, of course, but even if only to acknowledge that one is aware and to offer any help that may be possible. Poor Eloise! She will be quite shattered. They are very close. They have always been so fond of each other.'

Charlotte tried to imagine what it would be like to love someone so dearly and have to watch him day after