“No, of course not,” Caroline said wearily. “It’s just that with her being ill she didn’t contact the people who normally help.”
The door to the withdrawing room opened.
“Why, Charlotte, what on earth are you doing sitting there like a child huddled in the half-dark? Are you ill?” Caroline came forward quickly.
Charlotte was so glad to see her she felt the tears prickle in her eyes. It was ridiculous. She swallowed hard.
“Mama, Lily hasn’t come back. Maddock’s gone to tell the police!”
Caroline stared.
“Police!” Emily said incredulously, and then her disbelief changed to anger. “What on earth are you thinking of, Charlotte? You must be mad!”
Sarah came up behind her.
“What will the neighbours say? We can’t have the police here just because a servant girl has run off with someone!” She looked around as if she expected to see him materialize. “Where’s Dominic?”
“He’s out, of course!” Charlotte snapped. “Do you think if he were here he’d have gone to bed?”
“You should never have left Charlotte alone,” Emily said, anger sharpening her tone.
“Well, possibly Mama didn’t know Lily was going to pick tonight to get lost!” Charlotte could hear her voice cracking. In her mind she saw Lily lying in the street. “She might be dead or something, and all you are thinking of is making silly remarks!”
Before anyone could take it any further the door opened and closed again and Edward came in through the open doorway of the withdrawing room.
“What’s the matter?” he said immediately. “Caroline?”
“Charlotte sent for the police because Lily has run away,” Sarah said furiously. “I expect we’ll be the talk of the street tomorrow!”
Edward stood aghast, staring at Charlotte.
“Charlotte?” he demanded.
“Yes, Papa.” She could not look at him.
“What on earth possessed you to do such a foolish thing, child?”
“She was afraid something. . ” Caroline began.
“Be silent, Caroline,” he said sharply. “Charlotte? I’m waiting!”
Charlotte felt her tears disappear in rebellion. She looked at him, as angry as he was now.
“If the whole street is going to talk about us,” she replied distinctly, “I would prefer it were because we were worried unnecessarily than because we didn’t care enough to see if she was all right when she was lying somewhere hurt!”
“Charlotte, go to your room!”
Wordlessly, head high, she went out and up the stairs. Her bedroom was cold and dark, but she could only think of the colder and darker streets outside.
She woke in the morning tired and heavy-headed. She remembered last night. Papa was almost certainly still angry, and poor Lily would reap the worst of it, possibly even a dismissal. Maddock was probably in for an unpleasant patch, too. She must remember not to make it worse for him by letting Papa know it was he who had suggested the police.
And of course if Lily were dismissed it would upset the whole household until a replacement was found. Mrs. Dunphy would be thoroughly aggrieved. Dora would be run silly. And Mama would discover all over again how hard it was to come by a respectable girl, never mind to train her.
It was still early but there was no point in lying in bed. Anyway, better to get it over with than to lie fearing and building it into ever larger proportions.
She had ventured as far as the downstairs hall when she saw Dora.
“Oh, Miss Charlotte!”
“What’s the matter, Dora? You look terrible. Are you ill?”
“Not properly speaking, I’m not. But isn’t it terrible, Miss?”
Charlotte’s heart sank. Surely Papa had not turned Lily out into the street in the middle of the night?
“What is, Dora? I went to bed before Lily came back.”
“Oh, Miss Charlotte,” Dora swallowed, her eyes round. “She never did come back. She must be lying murdered in the street somewhere, and we all in our beds like we didn’t care!”
“She doesn’t have to be anything of the sort!” Charlotte snapped, trying to convince herself. “She’s probably lying in bed, too, in some miserable room with Jack what’s-his-name.”
“Oh no, Miss, it’s wicked of you to say-” She blushed violently. “I’m sorry, Miss Charlotte, but you didn’t ought to say that. Lily was a good girl. She’d have never done that, and without giving notice even!”
Charlotte changed the subject.
“Did the police come, do you know? I mean, Maddock went for them.”
“Yes, Miss, a constable came, but he seemed to be of a mind that Lily was no better than she should be, and had simply run off. But then I always reckon police is no better than they should be either. All the low sorts of people they mix with, I dare say. Stands to reason, don’t it?”
“I don’t know, Dora. I’ve never known any police.”
Breakfast was a formal and very grim affair. Even Dominic looked unusually glum. He and Papa departed for the day, and Emily and Mama went to the dressmaker’s for fittings. Sarah was in her room writing letters. Funny what an enormous correspondence she had. Charlotte could never find above two or three people to write to in a month.
It was half past eleven and Charlotte was painting surprisingly successfully, for the gray mood she was in, when Maddock knocked and opened the door.
“What is it, Maddock?” Charlotte did not look up from her palette. She was mixing a muted sepia for leaves in the distance, and wished to get it exactly right. She enjoyed painting, and this morning it was particularly soothing.
“A person, Miss Charlotte, to see Mrs. Ellison, but since she is not in, he insisted on seeing someone.”
She abandoned the sepia.
“What do you mean, ‘a person,’ Maddock? What kind of a person?”
“A person from the police, Miss Charlotte.”
Fear rippled through Charlotte. It was real at last! Or were they come to complain about having been bothered over a domestic matter?
“Then you’d better show him in.”
“Do you wish me to remain, Miss, in case he becomes a nuisance? You can never tell with police persons. They are used to a different class of neighbourhood altogether.”
Charlotte would very much have liked his moral support.
“No, thank you, Maddock. But stay in the hall so I can call for you, please.”
“Yes, Miss.”
A moment later the door opened again.
“Inspector Pitt, ma’am.”
The man who came in was tall and looked large because he was untidy; his hair was unruly, and his jacket napped. His face was plain, a little Semitic, although his eyes were light and his hair no darker than brown. He appeared intelligent. His voice when he spoke was unusually beautiful, quite incongruous against his somewhat scruffy appearance. He looked Charlotte up and down keenly, irritating her already.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you when you are alone, Miss Ellison, but we cannot afford to waste time. Perhaps you would like to sit down?”
Instinctively she refused.
“No, thank you,” she said stiffly. “What is it you want?”
“I’m sorry, I have bad news. We have found your maid, Lily Mitchell.”
Charlotte tried to stand quite still, upright, although her knees were weak. She could feel the blood drain from her face.
“Where?” her voice was a squeak. This wretched man was staring at her. She did not normally dislike people on sight-no, perhaps that was not quite true-but this man certainly inspired it. “Well?” she said, keeping her voice level.
“In Cater Street. Perhaps you had better sit down?”
“I’m perfectly all right, thank you.” She tried to freeze him with a glance, but he seemed oblivious to it. Quite firmly he took her arm and guided her backwards into one of the hardbacked chairs.
“Would you like me to call one of your maids?” he offered.
That incensed her. She was not so feeble she could not conduct herself decently, even in the face of shocking news.
“What is it you wish to do that cannot wait?” she said with great control.