Gracie, Charlotte’s maid, was one sane head amid the domestic chaos, although Emily did observe that every time Lorcan McGinley’s very handsome young valet passed by her, which seemed more often than was necessary, she lost her concentration and became uncharacteristically clumsy. Emily was far too astute not to understand the signs.
And Pitt’s most disobliging assistant, Tellman, was very busy asking everyone a lot of questions and looking as if someone had broken a bad egg.
In the late afternoon Cornwallis telephoned back and asked to speak to Jack.
“What is it?” Emily demanded as soon as he had replaced the receiver on the cradle. “What did you just agree to?”
They were in the library. He had gone there to answer the call, and she had followed him when she knew from Dilkes who was on the other end.
Jack looked very stiff, his eyes wide. He lifted his chin a trifle, as if his collar were suddenly tight on his throat.
“What is it?” Emily repeated, her voice rising.
Jack swallowed. “Cornwallis has said the Home Office would like me to continue the conference,” he replied very quietly, his voice not much more than a whisper. He cleared his throat. “In Greville’s place.”
“You can’t!” Emily said instantly, almost choked with fear for him.
“Thank you.” He looked as if she had hit him. She opened her mouth to tell him not to be absurd. This was no time for childish pride. Greville had just been murdered, less than twenty-four hours ago, here in this house. Jack could be next! Then like a drenching of cold water she realized that he thought she had meant that he was not capable of it, he was not fit to take Greville’s place.
Was that what he feared himself? Had she pushed him too far, out of her own ambition, her expectations of him? Without meaning to, by her admiration for other people, her dreams, had she tacitly asked of him more than he could give? Was he reaching for this to prove himself to her, to please her, to be, in his own way, all he imagined George Ashworth had been? George had had money, title, charm, but no skills. He had not needed them.
Was Jack trying to excel in political life to match the Ashworth family?
And did he feel he had been driven to take on more than he was capable of fulfilling?
And did he really think she also doubted him?
She looked at him, his handsome face which had earned him his place in society, was now grave, his wide eyes fixed on hers.
He did think she doubted him!
“I mean it’s too dangerous!” she said hoarsely. “You must call Cornwallis back and tell him you can’t do it … until Thomas has found out who murdered Greville. They can’t expect you just to pick up where he left it the night he was killed.” She moved towards him. “Jack, don’t they understand what happened here? These people are murderers—or at least one of them is.” She put her hands up to his shoulders.
He took her by the wrists and put her arms down again, still keeping hold of her.
“I know that very well, Emily. I knew it when I accepted. One does not refuse a job because it may be dangerous. What do you think would happen to our country if a general was killed in battle and the next officer in turn refused to take command?”
“You are not in the army!”
“Yes, I am—”
“You’re not! Jack …” She stopped.
“Emily, don’t argue with me,” he said with a firmness she had never heard in his voice before. She knew she could not persuade him, and it frightened her, because she admired him more than she wished to. A certain element of control had slipped away from her. Her emotions were racing. There was a shivering of real fear inside her, and it was a terrible feeling. There was nothing exciting about it at all, just a sickness.
“Thank you,” he said gently. “You will have a great deal to do. This is about the worst house party I expect you will ever attend, let alone have to host. I shall not be able to help you. You will have to rely on Charlotte. I’m sorry.”
She forced herself to smile. She felt guilty. She had not known his courage, and she had thought him unequal to the task. Worse than that, she had allowed him to see it.
“Of course,” she said with far more confidence than she felt. “If you can take over the leadership of the conference, the least I can do is see that the party is … bearable. It can hardly be fun, but we can at least avoid any further social disasters.”
He smiled back at her with a flash of real humor. “With Iona McGinley in Moynihan’s bed, and Greville dead in his bath, unless the cook gives notice, I think we’ve achieved a full house! Unless of course someone decides to cheat at cards.”
“Don’t,” she said hoarsely. “Jack, don’t even whisper it!”
But her brave face did not last far beyond dinner, which she managed with supreme skill. Eudora took it in her room, but everyone else was present, and all behaved with dignity and passably civil conversation. It was afterwards, when she spoke to Pitt in the library, that she lost her composure and all her fear spilled through.
“What have you found out?” she asked sharply.
Pitt looked exhausted and deeply unhappy. His tie was coming undone, his jacket pockets were stuffed with bits of paper and his hair looked as if he had run his fingers through it a dozen times.
“It seems to have been Padraig Doyle, Fergal Moynihan, or one of the women,” he said wearily. “Or his son.”
“Doyle is his brother-in-law!” she exclaimed with disgust. “And it wouldn’t be his son, for heaven’s sake. It’s a political murder, Thomas. It must be Moynihan. Why not McGinley or O’Day?”
“Because they were seen elsewhere at the time.”
“Then it is Moynihan. He’s already been caught in bed with McGinley’s wife. What makes you think he wouldn’t stoop to murder? Arrest him! Then at least Jack will be safe.”
“I can’t arrest him, Emily. There’s no proof he’s guilty ….”
“You’ve just said he is!” she shouted. “It has to be him. Or else one of the servants. What is Tellman doing? Can’t he find out whether it was a servant? They all have duties. They ought to be able to account for where they were. What have you been doing all day?”
Pitt opened his mouth to speak.
Behind Emily the library door creaked, but she did not bother to turn to see who it was. Her mind was filled with fear for Jack.
“You were no use at looking after Greville, you could at least do something to protect Jack! You shouldn’t have let him accept the task. Why didn’t you tell Cornwallis how dangerous it was? Arrest Moynihan before you get Jack killed as well!”
Charlotte walked over to the vase of chrysanthemums on the small table and yanked the flowers out, holding the jug of water in her other hand. She stood opposite Emily, her face flushed, her eyes dark with rage.
“Hold your tongue,” she said with a low, barely controlled voice. “Unless you want this water all over you.”
“Don’t you dare!” Emily snapped back. “Jack’s in terrible danger, and Thomas won’t lift a—”
Charlotte threw the water and Emily was drenched. She gasped in sheer amazement.
Pitt put out his hand as if to restrain someone, then dropped it again, his eyes wide.
“Stop thinking of yourself!” Charlotte said. “Thomas can’t arrest anyone until he has proof who’s guilty. It might be someone else, and then where will we all be? Use your common sense, and try to think and watch!”
Emily was so furious she was speechless, most immediately because there was nothing at hand to throw back. She spun on her heel and stormed out of the room and strode upstairs, along the landing, and into her bedroom, slamming the door with a resounding crash. Then she threw herself onto her bed and lay there, wretched. She had been unfair to Jack, and now she had been unfair to Pitt as well. He must be feeling dreadful. He could not have foreseen a murder from inside the house, any more than anyone else could have. And she had quarreled with Charlotte, whom she needed more than ever before.