Death On Blackheath (Thomas Pitt 29) Read online

  Charlotte heard the hurt in her voice beneath the surface irritation. She wanted to turn and study Emily’s face more closely, but she knew that in doing that she would make an issue of something that was too delicate to force.

  ‘We don’t know that it was her body in the gravel pit,’ she said instead. ‘If it wasn’t, and we accuse a government scientist of what amounts to murder, we are hardly guarding the safety of the state. In fact,’ she added, ‘we are doing the enemy’s work for them.’

  Emily stopped, her eyes wide. ‘Now that is a really interesting thought.’

  Charlotte’s heart sank. Unquestionably she had said too much now. How could she get out of it? She had never been able to fool Emily; they knew each other far too well. Emily, the youngest of the three sisters, had always been the prettiest, possibly a little spoiled, and forever trying to catch up. Socially and financially, it was many years since she had overtaken Charlotte. The memory of their elder sister, Sarah, murdered in the terrible affair of the Hangman of Cater Street, was one Charlotte seldom touched. There was a pain of grief still left, and also regret over the stupid quarrels, and a nameless guilt that she was dead while Emily and Charlotte were alive, and happy. There was too much darkness in it, the kind of thick, heavy shadow that eats the light.

  ‘That’s all it is!’ she said, more sharply than she had intended. ‘A thought.’

  Emily smiled, a sparkle in her eyes.

  ‘Anyway, the person who’s drawing attention to it is Somerset Carlisle, and he’s hardly an enemy of the country. Nor is he stupid enough not to understand what he’s doing.’

  ‘Maybe we could find out?’ Emily suggested.

  Charlotte had no quick answer. She was trying to extricate herself from the difficulty she had created by raising the subject at all. She shivered very visibly. ‘Could we do it walking again? I’m freezing standing here.’

  ‘You don’t want to,’ Emily started to move, actually quite quickly, making conversation difficult. ‘Stop tiptoeing around me, Charlotte. You’re as bad as Jack.’

  Charlotte stopped again, colder than she had been even the moment before. What was this about? No more involvement in detection? Being bored and losing interest in gossip and pointless parties just to fill the day, serving no larger purpose? Or was it really about Jack? Certainly it had little if anything to do with Dudley Kynaston or the body in the gravel pit.

  Emily was still walking away, though she had slowed down. Charlotte hurried to catch up with her. There was no point in being subtle now; in fact it might only make things worse.

  ‘Do you really know Rosalind Kynaston?’ she asked a little breathlessly. She wanted desperately to help, and yet the slightest clumsiness would close off the opportunity, perhaps for a long time. She knew even as she was doing it that it might be dangerous, and Pitt would not approve, but she knew also that what she had thought was temper on Emily’s part was really pain.

  They had known each other all the life they could clearly remember. Sharing was woven through all childhood. It was nothing to do with toys, lessons, dresses, books; it was memory. As little children they had run hand in hand. As girls they had shared secrets and laughter, quick squabbles. As young women there had been adventures, hope, falling in love, and heartbreak. Now, probably more than half-way through life, there would also be disillusion, coming to terms with other kinds of pain, inequalities that would always be there.

  Emily shook her head. ‘Not very well, but that could be mended. In fact, it will have to be, if Jack takes a position with Dudley Kynaston. He’s likely to be offered it. It must be a promotion.’ And yet there was no lift in her voice, no excitement.

  Charlotte hesitated, then decided honesty was the only safe choice. ‘But you don’t like it? Or is it just this messy maid business that worries you?’

  Emily kept her eyes forward. ‘I don’t know why you say that …’

  ‘Shall I explain it?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Or would you rather talk about something else?’

  Emily pulled her mouth into a grimace. ‘I’m not as sure as he is that it would really be upward. I think it’s rather more sideways. Honestly …’ She gave a little sigh and looked away again. ‘Promotion carries some burdens as well. He could be away more … a lot more.’

  ‘Oh …’ Charlotte immediately wondered whether Emily was going to miss him, or if she were more worried about what he might do far from home, and perhaps if he would miss her as much. As far as Charlotte knew, Jack had not been unfaithful to Emily, even in thought, but before marriage he had certainly been widely experienced, and had not hidden the fact. The novel thought of being completely faithful to one woman was part of the new adventure of marrying. So also, of course, was the equally novel experience of being financially far more than comfortable, with at least two very fine homes of his own, instead living most of the year as a guest in someone else’s house, there because he was charming, entertaining and always agreeable, but never secure.

  He was a Member of Parliament commanding considerable respect from his peers, and being offered advancement entirely on his own merit. Emily had begun as the privileged one; now Jack made his own way. Charlotte realised with surprise that that was a bit like herself and Pitt, except that all she had possessed at the beginning was an excellent upbringing and the entrée to certain circles in Society, no money at all. The change that Pitt’s promotions had brought delighted her, especially the respect he was now accorded by those who had previously condescended to him. The only disappointment was the inability to take part in his cases, no excitement, no detection. With a jolt of surprise she realised that she too had become a trifle bored. She was definitely affected with a feeling that she was repeating the same tasks over and over, and perhaps they were not really either as useful, or as interesting as she had imagined.

  Emily had waited as long as she was going to. ‘What do you mean?’ she demanded.

  ‘I know what you mean about promotion,’ Charlotte answered. ‘It brings more money, and more responsibility, but not necessarily more satisfaction. And certainly not more fun.’ Then afraid she had given away too much about herself, she hastened on. ‘What does Jack say?’

  Emily gave a slight shrug. ‘Not a great deal. In fact, not enough. He says he wants the promotion, but it isn’t the exact truth.’ She glanced at Charlotte, then away again, and kept on walking. Their surroundings were like some other-worldly forest, hard winter sunlight reflecting back off the glass-domed ceiling while groups of strangers walked under extraordinarily shaped trees and trailing vines, pretending they had not seen each other so they did not break the spell of being in another world.

  ‘The trouble is,’ Emily went on, ‘I don’t know which part of it is the lie, or what it’s for. Is it self-protecting, so if he doesn’t get the promotion he can tell me he really doesn’t mind? Or does he want the position for some reason he doesn’t want me to know?’

  Or possibly he just did not consult Emily any more, not as he used to, but that was not a thought that Charlotte wanted to speak aloud. On the other hand, maybe he wanted the job very much, and he was afraid Emily’s advice would be negative.

  ‘Do you know much about it?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘The position? Not a lot. After the last disaster, none of which was Jack’s fault, I don’t know whether to encourage him or not, and he isn’t telling me enough for me to make an intelligent comment anyway. I … I don’t know whether he doesn’t trust me, or if he doesn’t care what I think …’ Now the misery was so heavy in her voice she seemed on the brink of tears.

  Charlotte said the only thing she could.

  ‘Then we must find out. It is better to find out the worst and deal with it than to spoil something that wasn’t actually the worst at all, by fearing and being filled with an unjust suspicion.’ She looked at Emily’s face. ‘I know that’s very easy to say, and you think I’ve never experienced it.’

  ‘You haven’t!’ Emily said sharply. ‘Thomas would no more look at
another woman than grow wings and fly in the air! If you dare patronise me, so help me, I’ll push you and your best dress into that pile of wet soil over there – and you’ll never get the smell out as long as you live!’

  ‘An excellent solution to all problems,’ Charlotte said disgustedly. ‘Push it into the manure. It’ll make us all feel so much better – for about five minutes …’

  ‘Ten!’ Emily snapped. Then in spite of herself she began to laugh, even though the tears running down her face were not really those of amusement.

  Charlotte put her arms around her and hugged her briefly, then stepped back. ‘We had better get started,’ she said in a businesslike way. ‘We must get to know Dudley and Rosalind Kynaston, and the possibility of Jack being offered a position with Kynaston is the perfect excuse.’

  Emily put her shoulders back and lifted her chin a little. ‘I shall begin immediately. I’m freezing standing here. I thought tropical jungles were supposed to be warm! Let’s go home and have some tea by the fire, and hot crumpets soaked with butter.’

  ‘An excellent idea,’ Charlotte agreed. ‘Then I shall have to have a whole wardrobe of new dresses, a size larger.’

  ‘You could give me that one,’ Emily regarded it with pleasure. ‘I could have it taken in to fit me!’

  Charlotte pretended to slap her, and tripped over a piece of fallen branch, only just righting herself before she overbalanced. This time Emily really laughed, a swift, bubbling sound full of delight.

  ‘How kind!’ Charlotte said under her breath, then couldn’t help laughing as well.

  The arrangement was fulfilled three days later when Charlotte and Pitt met Emily and Jack at the theatre. There had been no further progress either in finding Kitty Ryder alive, or in identifying the body on Shooters Hill. Other news had overtaken the issues raised in Parliament by Somerset Carlisle’s questions. However, it was only a matter of time before they would need to be addressed more urgently. Pitt had not deluded himself that the case was over, and Charlotte was quite aware of the tension in him above that of the usual concerns of his position.

  It was the opening night of a new play, and therefore something of an occasion. Emily had been both fortunate and clever to obtain four tickets. Formal dress was required, which Pitt hated. On the other hand, he enjoyed seeing Charlotte wear a really beautiful gown of warm coral and russet tones with even a touch of hot scarlet in the brocade. It was brand new; the skirt was perfectly flat at the front and around the hips, not a line possible for everyone. It widened like a bell at the bottom, so cleverly was it cut. It was unadorned; the beauty of the fabric said everything.

  Glancing at herself in the looking-glass for a final time, Charlotte had to admit that even without expensive jewellery she looked striking. She could not afford such things and did not wish Pitt to be extravagant in giving them to her. She wore no necklace at all. This was rather a daring decision, but it only drew attention to her still smooth jawline, her slender throat and the warmth of her natural colouring. Her thick, dark chestnut hair was coiled upon her head and there was a slight flush in her cheeks. Her pearl and coral earrings were perfect.

  Pitt did not say anything, but the admiration in his eyes was more than sufficient. Even Jemima was impressed, although she was reluctant to say so.

  ‘That’s a nice gown, Mama,’ she muttered as Charlotte reached the top of the stairs. ‘Better than the green one.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Charlotte accepted the compliment. ‘I prefer it myself.’

  Pitt bit his lip to hide a smile.

  ‘You look very handsome, Papa,’ Jemima added, this time more wholeheartedly.

  Pitt did not imagine for a moment that he was handsome – distinguished at best – but in his daughter’s eyes he was, and that was of far more importance. He gave her a quick hug, and then followed Charlotte down to the waiting carriage, which had been hired for the occasion.

  It was a gusty evening with an edge to the wind, but at least it was dry.

  They arrived in good time, but the theatre foyer was already quite crowded. From the moment they came up the steps into the arc of the glittering lights, Pitt saw people he knew, albeit professionally rather than socially. He was absorbed into nods of acknowledgement, brief words of greeting, a smile here or there. They were his acquaintances, not Charlotte’s, which was a radical change from the early years of their marriage when she had known everyone and he had been there only because of her. She found herself smiling, walking with her head a little higher. She was proud of him … actually, very proud.

  She was the first of them to see Jack. She was struck again by how handsome he was. The few extra years had given him maturity, a sense of something more than simple good looks. The sharp light was unkind in showing more than one might see in the gas or candlelight of a withdrawing room, but the few lines around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes gave him character, and knowledge of emotion rather than a blank page on which little was yet written.

  Emily was a step or two away, speaking to someone else. Her fair hair gleamed, almost like an ornament in itself, making her diamond earrings unnecessary. She was wearing a gown of pink lilac threaded with silver and stitched with tiny pearls. It was gorgeous in itself, and of course had the perfect new skirt, but it did not flatter her as a cooler shade would have done. Also it was going to clash with Charlotte’s gown about as much as it was possible for two colours to detract from each other. Perhaps they should have consulted together first? But Charlotte had little choice, and Emily had a room full of gowns. The fashion rage at the moment was turquoise, and it would have been perfect for her!

  Too late now. The only option was to carry it off with bravado. She walked over towards Emily, smiling as if delighted to see her.

  Emily turned from her conversation to see Charlotte almost beside her, and a moment later they kissed cheeks lightly.

  Jack turned also and the appreciation in his eyes as he saw Charlotte was unmistakable. The evening was already off to a shaky start.

  General polite greetings and trivial conversation continued for another few minutes until Jack seemed effortlessly to have guided them towards a couple who were striking-looking – at least the man was. He was tall with a mane of thick fair hair and strong features. The woman was more ordinary, but beautifully dressed. Her face was gentle, but there was no fire in it, no passion. Her gown, on the other hand, was stitched – one might say encrusted – with turquoises and tiny beads of crystal, and of course the new, five-piece cut of skirt, totally flat around the hips and yet sweeping towards the full, bell-like bottom, and more beads just above the hem.

  The man’s eyes mirrored Jack’s appreciation of Charlotte, then as he turned to Pitt, the light faded from them and he paled visibly.

  ‘May I present my brother and sister-in-law, Mr and Mrs Thomas Pitt,’ Jack said courteously. ‘Mr and Mrs Dudley Kynaston …’

  Kynaston swallowed. ‘Commander Pitt I have met. How do you do, Mrs Pitt?’ He bowed very slightly to Charlotte.

  ‘How do you do, Mr Kynaston?’ she responded, trying to keep the sudden flame of interest out of her expression. ‘Mrs Kynaston.’ She was fascinated. Neither of them was what she had expected. Her mind raced for something harmless to say. She must engage them in conversation of some sort. ‘I believe the play is quite controversial,’ she began. ‘I hope that is true, and not just a fiction to spark our interest.’

  Rosalind looked surprised. ‘You like controversy?’

  ‘I like to be asked a question to which I don’t have the answer,’ Charlotte replied. ‘One that makes me think, look at things I think I am familiar with, and then see them from another view.’

  ‘I think you will find some of these views might make you quite angry, and confused,’ Kynaston said gently, glancing at his wife before turning to Charlotte.

  ‘Angry, I can well believe,’ Pitt said with a discerning smile. ‘Confused, I think less likely.’

  Kynaston was startled, but he did his
best to hide it.

  Jack stepped in to bridge a rather embarrassed silence. He looked at Kynaston. ‘Have you seen reviews of the play, sir?’ he asked with interest.

  ‘Hotly varying opinions,’ Kynaston answered. ‘Which I suppose is why they are sold out this evening. Everyone wishes to make up their own minds.’

  ‘Or accept such an excellent excuse for a glamorous evening,’ Emily suggested. ‘I can see all sorts of interesting people here.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Rosalind smiled back at her. For a moment her face had a surprising vitality, as if a different person had looked out through her rather ordinary eyes. ‘I think that is the main reason for most of them coming.’

  Emily laughed and looked across an open space at a woman in a gown of outrageous green. ‘And an excuse to wear something one could not possibly wear except in a theatre! It will probably still glow when the lights go down.’

  Rosalind stifled a laugh, but already she was looking at Emily as an ally.

  A few moments later they were joined by a grim-faced man and a tall woman with flaxen fair hair that gleamed like polished silk, a porcelain fair skin, and amazing blue eyes. She led the way and joined the group as if she were quite naturally a part of it. The man stopped a yard or so away, and Charlotte felt Pitt stiffen beside her.

  The woman smiled. She had perfect teeth.

  ‘Commander Pitt. What a pleasant surprise to see you here.’ Her eyes slid to Charlotte, obliging Pitt to introduce her.

  ‘Mrs Ailsa Kynaston,’ Pitt said a little awkwardly.

  For an instant Charlotte wondered if Pitt had made a mistake, using her Christian name; then she remembered that Bennett Kynaston was dead. She was Dudley’s widowed sister-in-law. She acknowledged her with interest, and turned to the man now moving forward. He also seemed to know Pitt, but inclined his head to Charlotte politely. ‘Edom Talbot, ma’am,’ he said, introducing himself.