Did it matter? Would the lady-in-waiting help him? Should he raise his voice, or was that inexcusable, regardless of her hearing?
He gulped. “It is my honor, Your Royal Highness.” Was that too loud?
She was watching him closely. What was she going to ask?
“Please sit down,” she invited, indicating the chair opposite her.
“Would you care for tea?”
Should he accept, or was the invitation merely a form of politeness? He had no idea. Did she know how rude he had been to the Prince?
“Please accept,” the lady-in-waiting said quietly, from a step or two behind him. “Her Royal Highness wishes to speak with you. The tea will be very agreeable.”
“Thank you,” Pitt said more gently. “Thank you, ma’am.” He sat down, aware of being clumsy, as if he were all arms and legs, as unco-ordinated as if he were still an adolescent.
The lady-in-waiting poured the tea. It was very hot, obviously only just brought in, and the fragrance of it was delicate but unmistakable.
“You have a very difficult task, Mr. Pitt,” the Princess observed, taking a small cucumber sandwich and indicating that he should do the same.
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed. He took a sandwich carefully, wondering if he could possibly stretch it to three mouthfuls.
“Have you met all His Royal Highness’s guests?” she inquired. She had fine eyes, intelligent and very direct.
“Yes, ma’am.” He must add something more. He was sounding stupid. “I have spoken more to the gentlemen this afternoon. I am not sure if the ladies can tell me much.” How much did she know? He must be desperately careful not to tell her anything she had not already heard. That would be appalling.
“You may be surprised,” she said with a very slight smile, amusement fleeting and then gone. “We observe more than you think.”
He had no idea how to answer her, and he did not think it polite to take another bite of the sandwich.
She sipped her tea. “You may find that they also have been quite aware of tensions, likes and dislikes, and of rivalries.”
“I will ask them, ma’am,” he promised, although he thought it a useless exercise.
“You are thinking that they will be too loyal to their husbands to tell you anything that could be of use in this unpleasant matter,” she went on.
The last piece of the sandwich went down his throat the wrong way, probably because he drew in his breath at the same time. He found himself coughing and the tears coming to his eyes. He was making a complete fool of himself. It was a kind of nightmare.
“Take a sip of tea, Mr. Pitt,” she suggested gently. “It will no doubt be better in a moment. Do not try to speak and make it worse, please.
I quite understand. I have noticed a few small nuances of character myself, which you may find of help.”
He thought that so unlikely as to be impossible. What could she conceivably know of the ways of prostitutes, or the more violent elements in men’s nature? He could not say so because courtesy forbade it, and he was still afraid of choking if he tried to speak.
She smiled a little absentmindedly, as if her attention was already engaged in marshaling her thoughts. “I have noticed that Mrs.
Sorokine has a certain air of wanton glamour about her that does not seem to hold her husband’s eye at all,” she said with devastating candor. “I do not think he is affecting indifference. I saw no signs of it in him. If he looked at anyone unobtrusively, it was at his step-mother-in-law, Mrs. Dunkeld.”
Pitt cleared his throat. “You are very observant, ma’am.”
“I have plenty of time,” she said ruefully, but the calm expression in her face barely changed. “When you are deaf, people do not talk to you a great deal. It is too much trouble to make themselves understood. Few realize how much of understanding comes from seeing a person’s face, and watching them while they speak. You might be surprised how often the eyes and the lips give different messages.”
He knew she was right. That was very often how he sensed that someone was lying, even before he knew the facts. “And what did you observe in the others, ma’am?” he asked.
She frowned slightly. “I beg your pardon?”
He repeated the question more slowly and a little more loudly. He could feel his face color with the awkwardness of it. He felt as if he came across as faintly condescending, although he did not intend to be.
“Oh.” This time she understood. “Mrs. Marquand is very unhappy. Watch her face in repose. She alternates between anger and misery. And Mrs. Quase is frightened. Her hands are always fiddling with something.”
“And Mrs. Dunkeld?” he asked.
Obviously she had not heard him. “And Mrs. Dunkeld,” she went on, “is afraid of her husband, which is quite different. Mrs. Quase is, I think, afraid for Mr. Quase. Although what she believes may happen to him I do not know. Mrs. Dunkeld never looks at Mrs.
Sorokine. I think perhaps she does not dare to, in case her eyes betray her.”
“You are extremely observant, ma’am,” he said sincerely.
“Please drink your tea.” She gestured toward the tray. “It is far less pleasant cold. And try a scone or two. It is not impolite. I requested them for you and shall be disappointed if you do not enjoy them.”
He dared to smile at her. “Thank you, ma’am.”
She smiled back in a suddenly charming gesture. “You see, I would make a better detective than you think. Mr. Dunkeld does not like Mr. Sorokine. I do not hear what he says, but I see his eyes. Even though he laughs, it is not a laugh of warmth or of pleasure. He is an angry man.”
“Do you know why, ma’am?” Pitt asked.
She did not hear. “My husband likes him, but I do not. I think he is using His Royal Highness in order to obtain something he wishes for. Not that that is unusual, of course. One must expect it. However, the Prince sometimes thinks better of people than I believe is justified. He imagines that those with whom he enjoys his leisure time are more of a like mind with him than they really are.”
Pitt had a glimpse of loneliness that was terrible, a world where no one was equal and no one dared speak the truth if it would not please you. You would always be floundering in a sea of lies. “I’m sorry,” he said with intense feeling.
She must have understood from the movement of his lips. “You have a gentleness in you, Mr. Pitt. Please remember how that poor woman died, and that whoever it is you are looking for has no pity at all, for her or for you.”
He was stunned into silence.
“Do have some cream with your scone,” she offered. “It adds greatly to the pleasure.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he accepted. He felt obliged to take it, with considerable gratitude. It was delicious.
“We are all naturally very disturbed,” she went on, as if answering some comment he had made, although in fact he had his mouth full.
He wondered if she had even the faintest idea what had really happened, of the violence, the hostility involved. “No one can be expected to carry on as usual,” she continued. “But we must make an effort. It is part of our duty, do you not think?”
“Yes, ma’am, if at all possible.” He swallowed and made the only reply he could. He could hardly disagree with her.
“All sorts of little things have to change, of course. Do you care for some more tea? Eleanor, my dear. .”
The lady-in-waiting poured it before Pitt could answer.
“Thank you,” he said quickly.
“It is gracious of you to spare me the time,” the Princess went on.
“I am sure you are much occupied. Of course, it could be something to do with the railway, but I confess I do not see how. They all seem very keen on it, except perhaps Mr. Sorokine. He made some remark, but I am afraid I did not hear all of it. But there was doubt in his face, I remember that, and the others were all annoyed with him. So much was clear.”
