Silence in Hanover Close tp-9 Read online

“Thomas …” She had thought about this a long time, at least an hour of the short night.

  “Yes?” His voice was guarded.

  “Emily isn’t ill, but she is very lonely, and being in mourning is pretty wretched.”

  “I know that, my dear.” Now there was compassion in his voice, and it made her feel guilty.

  “So I thought we should get involved in something,” she hurried on. She poked the bacon and it hissed gently, sending out an exquisite aroma.

  “Something?” he pressed with heavy skepticism. He knew her far too well for this to succeed.

  “Yes, something totally absorbing-like a mystery. So we started to look into Robert York’s death, which you told me about.” She reached for an egg and cracked it into the pan, then another. “Jack Radley-and that’s another reason: I really do want to get to know him rather better, just in case,” she hurried on, taking a deep breath, “Emily considers marrying him. Someone has to look after her interests-”

  “Charlotte!”

  “Well, I did have two reasons,” she insisted, then went on hastily. “Anyway, I went to tea with Veronica York and her mother-in-law. Emily arranged it so that Jack Radley took me-that way I was able to observe him while making some discoveries about the Yorks.” She could feel Pitt’s presence behind her as she turned the eggs gently, then took them out and put them on his plate next to the bacon. “There you are,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Last night I dined with the Danvers. I met them all, and they are most interesting. By the way, the Yorks and the Danvers appear to have about the same financial status, so neither Veronica nor Julian Danver would marry the other for money.” As she spoke she made the tea and set it on the table, all without meeting his eyes. “And Aunt Adeline told me the oddest thing: she saw a beautiful, glamorous woman wearing an outrageous shade of cerise in the house. Do you suppose she was a spy?” At last she looked at her husband, and was immensely relieved to see amazement in his face. His eyes were wide and his hand had stopped halfway to his mouth.

  “A woman in cerise?” he said after a moment’s silence. “Did she say in cerise?”

  “Yes. Yes, why? Have you heard of her? Is she a spy? Thomas!”

  “I don’t know. But the maid at the Yorks’ saw her too.”

  Charlotte slipped into the seat opposite him and leaned forward, forgetting her own bacon. “What did she say? When did she see her? Do you know who she is?”

  “No. But I shall go back and speak to the maid again, I think, and ask her for a closer description, and exactly when she saw this woman. I must find out who she is, if I can.”

  But before he went to Hanover Close again, he called by at the Bow Street station to attend to a few other inquiries, particularly a burglary in the Strand. He was halfway through reading the reports when a constable came in, a mug of tea in one hand. He put it down on Pitt’s desk.

  “Thank you,” Pitt said absently.

  “Thought you’d like to know, Mr. Pitt,” the constable said with a sniff as he reached for a large cotton handkerchief, sneezing into it and blowing his nose, “been a haccident yesterday, sir, at ’anover Close. Very sad. One of the upstairs maids fell out o’ the window, poor soul. Musta leaned out too far for suffink or other, maybe to call to someone. Any’ow the poor girl is dead, sir.”

  “Dead?” Pitt looked up, startled and chilled. “Who?”

  The constable looked down at the paper in his hand. “Dulcie Mabbutt, sir. Lady’s maid.”

  5

  When Charlotte left to go back home, Emily was wide awake, an endless day stretching ahead and nothing planned. She tried to go back to sleep again-quarter to six was far too early-but her mind was restless.

  At first she contemplated Charlotte’s evening with the Danvers. Who was the mysterious woman in the cerise gown? Probably just an old love of Julian’s he had been indiscreet enough to entertain under his father’s roof.

  No, that would not do. No man with half an ounce of intelligence would do such a thing, and by Charlotte’s account Julian Danver was quite a presence. She had spoken of him with some admiration and said she completely understood why Veronica York should wish to marry him. And Charlotte could never abide a fool, even though she imagined she was tolerant.

  There was another answer: either Julian, or Garrard, was a traitor, and the woman in cerise was the spy who had turned the man’s loyalty. It was simply coincidence that she had not been seen since Robert York’s death-she had been more careful, that was all.

  No, that was silly too. If the woman in cerise had had nothing to do with Robert York’s death, why bother to think about her at all? She was just what she seemed, a paramour being indiscreet. Perhaps Julian had tired of her-or Garrard, at a stretch of the imagination-and she had become desperate and foolish enough to pursue him to his house.

  Or again, maybe Harriet was leading a double life-possibly even keeping an assignation with Felix. And in such flamboyant clothes, so different from her usual attire that Aunt Adeline had failed to recognize her. In the middle of the night, when Aunt Adeline had presumably woken from sleep, that seemed more than likely. She sounded like a quaint old lady, at the best.

  Would Emily herself grow into a quaint, lonely old lady, visiting relatives too often and so bored she lived other people’s lives vicariously, misunderstanding everyone and seeing things that were not there?

  With this wretched thought Emily decided to get up, even though it was still only five minutes to seven. If the servants were startled, let them be. It would do them good.

  She rang for her maid and had to wait several minutes for her to come. Then she had a bath and dressed carefully, as if she were to entertain someone of great importance-it was good for her morale-and went downstairs. Of course, her lady’s maid had warned the rest of the house, so she took no one by surprise. Whatever they felt, there was nothing in their faces but bland good-mornings. Carrying in the poached eggs, Wainwright looked like a church warden with a collection plate, and he put it down in front of her with the same reverence. She would have loved to startle him enough to make him drop it!

  When she had finished breakfast and had taken three cups of tea she went to the kitchen. She thoroughly irritated the cook by interfering with the week’s menus, and then tried the patience of her own maid by checking on the mending and ironing of her gowns. When she finally realized how unfair she was being, she went into her boudoir, closed the door, and began to write a letter to Great-aunt Vespasia, simply because she would have liked to talk to her. She was on the fourth page of her letter when the footman knocked and came in to tell her that her mother, Mrs. Ellison, was in the morning room.

  “Oh, ask her in here,” she answered. “It’s much brighter.” She covered the letter and with mixed feelings prepared to welcome her mother.

  Caroline came in a moment later, dressed in a fashionable wine-colored barathea trimmed with black fur and a rakish hat which made her look more elegant than Emily could remember. There was a flush in her cheeks, doubtless the bitter weather, and she was full of good spirits.

  “How are you, my dear?” She kissed Emily delicately and sat in one of the most comfortable chairs. “You look peaked,” she observed with maternal candor. “I hope you are eating well. You must look after your health, for Edward’s sake and your own. Of course, this first year is terribly difficult, I know, but another six months and it will be past. You must prepare for the future. By midsummer it will be acceptable for you to start mixing in a few suitable gatherings.”

  Emily’s heart sank. The word suitable was like a damnation. She could imagine those gatherings: coteries of black-clad widows sitting round like crows on a fence, making pious-sounding, meaningless remarks, or else tutting over the latest giddiness of Society, picking it over endlessly because it was the only way they could participate in its life.

  “I think I’ll take up good works,” she said aloud.

  “Very commendable,” Caroline agreed with a little nod. “As long as you do it in m
oderation. You might speak to your vicar about it, or if you prefer, I will speak to mine. I am sure there are committees of ladies who would welcome your contributions in time, when it is appropriate for you to begin going out of your home to such meetings.”

  Sitting on committees of women was the last thing Emily had in mind. She was thinking of the sort of work Great-aunt Vespasia did-visiting workhouses and campaigning for better conditions and agitating for changes in the employment laws for children, trying to increase the number and scope of “ragged schools” for pauper children, perhaps even fighting for the political franchise for women. Now that she had the money, there might be quite a lot she could do, Emily decided. “You don’t look dressed for good works,” she said critically. “In fact, I’ve never seen you look so well.”

  Caroline was startled. “There is no need to dress like a dowd or to look wretched in order to do good works, Emily. I know this has been tragic for you, but you must not allow yourself to become eccentric, my dear.”

  Emily could feel her temper boil up inside her, mixed with frustration and despair. Imprisoning walls seemed to be closing in around her. It was as if someone were padlocking a gate and she could hear her mother’s calm, reasonable voice like the swish of closing curtains shutting out everything that was spontaneous, bright, and exhilarating.

  “Why not?” she demanded. “Why shouldn’t I become eccentric?”

  “Don’t be foolish, Emily.” Caroline’s tone was still gentle, but overly patient, as if she were speaking to a sickly child who would not eat her rice pudding. “In due course you will want to marry again. You are far too young to remain a widow, and you are extremely eligible. If you behave circumspectly during the next two or three years you may quite easily marry at least as well as you did before and be most comfortable and happy. But this next short time is crucial. It could make or mar everything.”

  Emily raised her eyebrows high. “You mean if I do something immodest or unseemly, no duke will have me, and if I am seen to be eccentric I may not even manage a baronet!”

  “You are in a very trying mood this morning,” Caroline said, struggling to remain patient. “You know the rules of Society quite as well as I do. Really, Emily, you used to be the most sensible of the three of you, but you seem to be getting more like Charlotte every time I see you. Perhaps I should have counseled you against spending Christmas with her, but I thought it would be nice for Edward to have some other children to play with. And to be quite frank, I know Charlotte must have been grateful for all the financial assistance you were able to give her-discreetly.”

  “Charlotte is perfectly happy!” Emily said far more waspishly than she had wished to. She was being unfair, and she knew it even as she was unable to prevent herself from going on. “And I enjoyed Christmas with her and Thomas- in fact, I loved it.”

  Caroline’s face eased into a smile and she quickly put her hand over Emily’s. “I’m sure you did, my dear. Your affection for each other is one of the nicest things in my life.”

  Emily felt a ridiculous prickle of tears and was furious with herself. She did not wish to distress her mother, and yet with the best will in the world Caroline was devising a future for her which so utterly misunderstood what she wanted, it was unbearable.

  “Mama, I refuse to sit on parish committees, so on no account speak either to your vicar or mine; you will only embarrass yourself, because I shall not turn up. If I do any good work it will be something real, perhaps with Great-aunt Vespasia. But I won’t sit around pontificating on other people’s morals, handing out saving tracts and homemade broth from a great height!”

  Caroline sighed, gritting her teeth. “Emily, at times you are most childish. You really cannot behave like Lady Cumming-Gould. She has quite a name in Society. People tolerate her because she is very old, and because they still retain a certain respect for her late husband. And at her age it doesn’t matter a great deal what she does; it can always be discounted as senility.”

  “I never met anyone in my life less senile than Great-aunt Vespasia!” Emily defended her furiously, not only in her affection for Vespasia but for the wit and pity she represented. “She has more good judgment about what really matters in her little finger than most of the rest of Society in all its fatuous heads put together!”

  “But no one would marry her, my dear!” Caroline said, exasperated.

  “She’s nearly eighty, for goodness’ sake!” Emily shouted.

  Caroline would not be diverted by reason. “Exactly the point I am trying to make. You are barely thirty. Consider your position with some sense. You are a pretty woman, but you are not a great beauty, as Vespasia was; nor are you born of a great family. You have no alliances to offer, no connections with power.” She looked at Emily seriously. “But you do have a considerable amount of money. If you marry beneath yourself you will lay yourself open to fortune hunters and men of the most dubious sort, who may well court you out of greed and the desire to gain entry to Society on the strength of your past connections with the Ashworths. It is a sad thing to have to say, but you are not a child; you know that as well as I do.”

  “Of course I know!” Emily turned away. Jack Radley’s face came vividly to mind. He was charming and seemed so frank, with those marvelous eyes fringed with long lashes. Was he a superb liar, capable of skilled and sustained deceit? All his future might depend on it: if he wooed and won her he could stop worrying about money for the rest of his life. For the first time since his childhood he would be secure; he could dress as he liked, buy horses and carriages, gamble, go to the races, invite people to dinner instead of incessantly seeking invitations in order to dine well. He would no longer have to curry favor, he could afford at last to like and dislike as he chose. The thought was intensely ugly, and it hurt more deeply than she would have believed even a few weeks ago. Emily took a deep, rather shaky breath. “Of course I know!” she said again loudly. “But I have no intention of marrying a bore simply to be sure his motives are not financial.”

  “Now you are being ridiculous.” Caroline’s patience was wearing positively threadbare. “You will make a reasonable accommodation, as we all do.”

  “Charlotte didn’t!”

  “I think the less said about Charlotte the better!” Caroline said in exasperation. “And if you imagine for one instant that you could marry someone like a policeman, or any other sort of tradesman or artisan, and be happy, then you really have taken leave of your wits! Charlotte is extremely fortunate that it hasn’t turned out to be worse than it has. Oh, certainly Thomas is a pleasant enough man, and he has treated her as well as he is able, but she has no security. If something should happen to him tomorrow she will be left with nothing at all, and two small children to raise by herself.” She sighed. “No, my dear, do not delude yourself into thinking that Charlotte has everything her own way. It would not suit you to be cutting down last year’s dresses to do this year, and cooking in your own kitchen, with Sunday’s meat having to last you through till Thursday. And don’t forget you would have no wealthy sister to help you as she has! Have your daydreams, by all means, but remember that is all they are. And when you have woken up from them, behave yourself like a widow of charm and dignity, with a considerable fortune and a social position that is very much worth your while to maintain undamaged by eccentric behavior. Give tongues no cause to whisper.”

  Emily was too crushed to argue.

  “Yes, Mama,” she said wearily. The whole realm of answers and explanations was too tangled in her mind, too alien to Caroline, and too little understood even by herself for her to begin to unravel and present them.

  “Good.” Caroline smiled at her. “Now perhaps you will offer me a dish of tea-it is extremely cold outside. And in a few months I shall speak to the vicar. There are committees for various things that would do very nicely as suitable places for you to begin to associate again.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Emily said again hollowly, and reached for the bell rope.

  The
rest of the day was thoroughly miserable. Outside, the wind blew showers of sleet against the windows, and it was so dark all the gas lamps were burning even at midday. Emily finished her letter to Great-aunt Vespasia, and then tore it up. It was too full of self-pity, and she did not want Aunt Vespasia to see that side of her. It was understandable, perhaps, but it was not attractive, and she cared very much what Vespasia thought of her.

  When Edward finished his lessons they had afternoon tea together, and then the long evening stretched to an early bed.

  The following day was utterly different. It began with the morning mail, which contained a letter from Charlotte posted late the previous evening and marked “Most Urgent.” She tore it open and read:

  Dear Emily,

  Something very sad has happened, and if we are right, then it is also evil and dangerous. I think the woman in cerise is the key to it all. Thomas knew of her too, from the lady’s maid at the Yorks’. Of course he didn’t tell me about her at the time, because then he did not know we had any interest. She saw Cerise-I shall call her that-at the York house in the middle of the night. When I told him what Aunt Addie said you can imagine his reaction!

  But the dreadful thing is that when he went into the station at Bow Street before going back to question the maid at Hanover Close again, he heard that she had been killed the day before! Apparently she fell out of an upstairs window. Thomas is very upset. Of course, it could have been an accident and nothing to do with his inquiries or the fact that she told him about Cerise, but on the other hand someone may have overheard her. And this is the interesting thing: all the Danvers were in the house when Thomas was there, so anyone might have been in the hall at the time she and Thomas were in the library talking.

  What we need to do is find out who was there when she fell. Thomas can’t do it because there is no reason to suspect it wasn’t an ordinary domestic accident. People do sometimes fall out of windows, and one cannot start casting suspicions on a family like the Yorks. And if the whole investigation of Veronica should come out, then there would be the most dreadful scandal and goodness knows who would be hurt. Julian Danver would probably be ruined, and Veronica most certainly would.