“I didn’t wish for any refreshment, and I’m quite capable of turning the gas up or down myself, or locking the doors.”
“Then you didn’t see Maddock at all?”
At last she realized what he was seeking. She was annoyed with herself for not having seen it before.
“No.”
“So he could have been out any time during the evening, as far as you know?”
“Mrs. Dunphy said he spoke to her. He only went out when Lily was late home, and-and he became worried.”
“So he says. But Mrs. Dunphy was alone in the kitchen. He could actually have gone out earlier.”
“No, he couldn’t. If I had called for anything I should have noticed his absence.”
“But you were reading a book your father did not approve of.” He was looking at her closely. His eyes were frank, as if there were no wall between them.
“He didn’t know that!” But even as she said it the sickening thought came that Maddock probably had known it. She had taken the book from her father’s study. Maddock knew the books well enough to spot which one was missing, and he knew her. She turned to face Pitt.
He merely smiled. “However,” he went on, dismissing the book with a wave of his hand. Really, he was a most untidy creature, so different from Dominic. He looked like a wading bird flapping its wings. “I can think of no reason why he should harbour any feelings against Miss Abernathy.” His voice lifted. “Was Miss Abernathy a friend of yours?”
“Not especially.”
“No,” he said thoughtfully. “From what I have been told, she would hardly have been your choice of company. A somewhat flighty girl, much given to laughter and rather frivolous pursuits, poor child.”
Charlotte looked at him. He was quite grave. Was he not sufficiently used to death in his job that it no longer moved him?
“She was not an immoral girl,” she said quietly, “just very young, and still a little foolish.”
“Indeed.” He gave a tight little grimace. “And not in the least likely to have had a liaison with someone else’s butler. I imagine her sights were set a good deal higher. She could hardly have remained in the kind of society she sought were she in any way engaged with a servant, even a superior one!”
“Are you being sarcastic, Mr. Pitt?”
“Quite literal, Miss Ellison. I do not always observe the rules of society, but I am quite aware of what they are!”
“You surprise me!” she said cuttingly.
“Do you disapprove of sarcasm, Miss Ellison?”
She felt her face flush; it had been the perfect barb.
“I find you offensive, Mr. Pitt. If you have some question to ask in connection with your business, please do so. Otherwise permit me to call Maddock to have you shown out.”
To her surprise he also blushed, and for once he did not look at her.
“I apologize, Miss Ellison. The last thing I wished was to offend you.”
Now she was confused. He looked unhappy, as if she had actually hurt him. She was at fault, and she knew it. She had been intolerably rude and he had so far forgotten himself as to give her as good in return. She had used her social advantage to fire the last shot. It was not something to be proud of; in fact it was an abuse of privilege. It must be rectified.
She did not look at him either.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Pitt. I spoke hastily. I am not offended at you, but a little more disturbed by. . by circumstances than I had allowed for. Please pardon my rudeness.”
He spoke quietly. Emily was right; he had a beautiful voice.
“I admire you for that, Miss Ellison.”
Again she felt acutely uncomfortable, knowing he was staring at her.
“And there is no need to fear for Maddock. I have no evidence on which to arrest him, and quite honestly, I think it is very unlikely he had anything to do with it.”
Her eyes flew up to meet his, to search and see if he were being honest.
“I wish I did have some idea who it was,” he went on seriously. “This kind of man does not stop at two, or three. Please, be most careful? Do not go out alone, even for the shortest distance.”
She felt a confusion of horror and embarrassment run through her: horror at the thought of some nameless madman stalking the streets, just beyond the darkened windows, and embarrassment over the depth of feeling in Pitt’s eyes. Surely it wasn’t conceivable that he actually-? No, of course not! It was just Emily’s stupid tongue! He was a policeman! Very ordinary. He probably had a wife somewhere, and children. What a big man he was, not fat, but tall. She wished he would not look at her like that, as if he could see into her mind.
“No,” she said with a quick swallow. “I assure you I have no intention of going out unaccompanied. We none of us shall. Now if there is nothing more I can tell you, you must persist in your enquiries-elsewhere. Good day, Mr. Pitt.”
He held the door open for her.
“Good day, Miss Ellison.”
It was late afternoon and she was alone in the garden, picking off dead rose heads, when Dominic came over the grass towards her.
“How very tidy,” he looked at the rose bushes she had done. “Funny, I never thought of you as so-regimented. That’s more like Sarah, tidying up after nature. I would have expected you to leave them.”
She did not look at him; she did not want the disturbing emotion of meeting his eyes. As always, she said what she meant.
“I don’t do it to be tidy. Taking off the dead heads means the plant doesn’t put any more goodness into them, seeds and so forth. It helps to make them bloom again.”
“How practical. And that sounds like Emily.” He picked a couple off and dropped them into her basket. “What did Pitt want? I would have thought he’d asked us everything possible by now.”
“I’m not really sure. He was very impertinent.” Then she wished she had not said it. Perhaps he had been, but she had also been rude, and it was less forgivable in herself. “It may be his way of. . of surprising people into frankness.”
“A little redundant with you, I would have thought?” he grinned.
Her heart turned over. Habit, familiarity all vanished and it was as if she had just met him again, enchanted. He was everything that was laughing, masculine, romantic. Why, oh why could she not have been Sarah?
She looked down at the roses in case he read it all in her eyes. She knew it must be naked there. For once she could think of nothing to say.
“Did he go on about Maddock?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He snapped off another dead head and dropped it into the basket.
“Does he honestly think the poor devil was so besotted by Lily that when she chose Brody instead he followed after her and killed her in the street?”
“No, of course not! He wouldn’t be so stupid,” she said quickly.
“Is it so stupid, Charlotte? Passion can be very strong. If she laughed at him, mocked him-”
“Maddock! Dominic?” she faced him without thinking. “You don’t think he did, do you?”
His dark eyes were puzzled.
“I find it hard to believe, but then I find it hard to believe anyone would strangle a woman with a wire like that. But someone did. We only know one side of Maddock. We always see him very stiff and correct: ‘yes, sir,’ ‘no, ma’am.’ We don’t ever think what he feels or thinks underneath.”
“You do think so!” she accused.
“I don’t know. But we have to consider it.”
“We don’t! Pitt might have to, but we know better.”
“No we don’t, Charlotte. We don’t know anything at all. And Pitt must be good at his job, or he wouldn’t be an inspector.”
“He’s not infallible. And anyway, he said he didn’t think that Maddock was involved; he just had to exhaust all the possibilities.”
“Did he say that?”
“Yes.”
“Then if he doesn’t think it’s Maddock, why does he keep coming here?”
“I suppose because Lily worked here.”
“What about the others, Chloe and the Hiltons’ maid?”