Tregarron nodded and bent his attention to the papers on the desk again.
Word from Blantyre came more rapidly than Pitt had expected. He had thought their meeting would be arranged the following day, at the earliest, but Blantyre asked for him that same afternoon.
Pitt grasped his coat and, forgetting his hat, went out to catch the next passing hansom. He ran up the steps two at a time, arriving a little breathlessly at Blantyre’s office door. Uncharacteristically for him, he straightened his tie, eased his shoulders to help his jacket lie a little more gracefully, and then raised his hand to knock.
The knock was answered almost immediately. A secretary ushered him in and, without any waiting at all, he found himself in Blantyre’s office. They shook hands, and then Blantyre motioned for him to be seated.
“Sorry for the haste,” Blantyre apologized. “I have another appointment I couldn’t shelve, and tomorrow I have one meeting after another. Tell me as briefly as you can, and still make any sense of it, what you know and what you’ve deduced.”
Pitt had already prepared what he meant to say during the hansom ride. He began without a preamble.
“We followed all the leads you gave us, and we are almost certain of the identities of the men asking questions about the timetables, signals, and points. There are various pieces of further information, observations of new and unlikely alliances formed by people we know as troublemakers and sympathizers with anarchy or violent change. Such evidence as we have indicates that the intended target is Duke Alois Habsburg, as you said.”
Blantyre nodded. “What is the weight of the evidence now, in your judgment?”
“Too serious to ignore,” Pitt said without hesitation. “It may be an extraordinary collection of coincidences, but surely that happens once in a hundred times, or less.”
“From my own experience of Austro-Hungarian affairs, which is considerable, I still think it’s extremely unlikely. But ‘unlikely’ isn’t good enough; we must be sure it’s impossible. I need more details, and I haven’t time to get them now, or to give this appropriate thought.” Blantyre frowned and stood up. “Can you come to dinner at my home this evening? You and your wife would be most welcome. We can allow the ladies to retire to the withdrawing room, and we can talk at length, and you can tell me all the details you are free to discuss, bearing in mind that I also serve the government, and Her Majesty. I know how to keep a secret. Between us we should be able to judge the gravity of the threat, so you may react appropriately.”
Pitt rose to his feet feeling as if a great weight had been taken from him. He had found an ally: perhaps the one man in England able to help him assess the value of his information.
“Thank you, sir,” he said with profound feeling. “We would be delighted.”
Blantyre held out his hand. “No need to be particularly formal, but we’ll make a pleasure of it all the same. Eight o’clock is a trifle early, but we will need the time. This matter may, after all, be very grave.”
Pitt took his leave and walked down the corridor rapidly, smiling. It had been more than a professional success. A man of substance and high office had treated him with the same dignity as he would have treated Narraway. There had been no condescension in his manner. For the first time in a while, Pitt was happy as he went down the stairs and out into the bitter wind knifing along the street.
While Pitt was speaking with Evan Blantyre, Charlotte had decided that she should telephone Emily, no matter how awkward she felt. Though the quarrel had been primarily Emily’s fault, one of them had to make the first move toward reconciliation, before the rift became too deep. Since Emily apparently was not going to do it, then she must. She was the elder anyway; perhaps it was her responsibility.
When she picked up the receiver to put the call through, she half hoped Emily would be out making calls. Then she could satisfy herself with the virtue of having made the attempt, without actually having to negotiate some kind of peace.
But the footman at the other end brought Emily to the telephone within moments of Charlotte being connected.
“How are you?” Emily asked guardedly.
“Very well, thank you,” Charlotte replied. They could have been strangers speaking to each other. The planned conversation disappeared from her head. “And you?” she asked, to fill the silence.
“Excellent,” Emily answered. “We are going to the theater this evening. It is a new play, supposed to be very interesting.”
“I hope you enjoy it. Have you heard from Mama and Joshua lately?” Joshua Fielding, their mother’s second husband, was an actor. It seemed a reasonable thing to ask. At least it stopped the silence from returning.
“Not for a couple of weeks,” Emily replied. “They are in Stratford. Had you forgotten?”
Charlotte had, but she did not wish to admit it. There was a touch of condescension in Emily’s tone. “No,” she lied. “I imagine they have telephones, even there.”
“Not in theatrical boardinghouses,” Emily replied. “I thought you would know that.”
“You have the advantage of me,” Charlotte said instantly. “I have never had occasion to inquire about one.”
“Since your mother frequents them, and you seem to be concerned for her welfare, perhaps you should have,” Emily returned.
“For heaven’s sake, Emily! It was a simple question-something to say.”
“I’ve never known you to be at a loss for something to say.” Emily’s tone was still critical.
“There is a great deal you have never known,” Charlotte snapped. “I was hoping for an agreeable conversation. Clearly that isn’t going to happen.”
“You were hoping I was going to say something to Jack about helping Thomas in his present predicament,” Emily corrected her.
Charlotte heard the defensiveness in Emily’s voice, and hesitated for a moment. Then temper and loyalty to Pitt got the better of her.
“You overestimate my opinion of Jack’s abilities,” she said coldly. “Thomas will get himself out of any difficulties there may be. I am sorry I disturbed you. This is obviously a conversation better held at another time, perhaps some distance in the future when you are less defensive.”
She heard Emily’s voice calling her name sharply, but she had already moved the receiver away from her ear. This was only going to hurt more the longer she continued talking. She replaced the instrument in its cradle and walked away with a tightness in her throat. It would be better to find something useful to do.
Charlotte was delighted when Pitt came home and told her of the invitation to dine with Blantyre and his wife. It was a social occasion that promised to be most enjoyable. However, of much more importance to her was the relief she saw in Pitt over the fact that someone had finally listened to his concerns.
For years he had shared with her much of what he had done. She had been of help to him in many cases, especially those concerning people of the class into which she had been born, and he had not. To begin with, he had considered it meddling, and had been afraid for her safety. Gradually he had come to value her judgment, especially her observation of people, and her strength of character, even if he still feared for her safety in some of her wilder interventions.
Emily too had involved herself, demonstrating both courage and intelligence. But that was in a past that now seemed distant; they were much further apart than they used to be. She did not blame Emily for feeling a greater loyalty to Jack than to her sister. She herself gave her first passionate and instinctive allegiance to her husband. But the knowledge still carried a sense of loss, a longing for the laughter and the trust, the ability to talk openly about all kinds of things, trivial or important, which had always been part of her life and her relationship with Emily. There was no one else she would trust in the same way.
But she forced it from her mind and smiled at Pitt. “That will be excellent. It will be lovely, and a decent excuse to wear a new gown I have bought for myself, rather than one borrowed from Emily or Aunt Vespasia. I have a very fashionable one, in a curious shade of blue. It will be more than equal to the occasion.”
She saw Pitt’s amusement.
“Adriana Blantyre is very beautiful, Thomas. I shall have to do my best to not be constantly overshadowed!”
“Is she brave and clever as well?” he asked with sudden gentleness. “Or funny and kind?” He did not add the rest of what he implied. She knew it, and felt the blush of self-consciousness creep up her cheeks, but she did not lower her eyes from his.
