‘I pulled the court circular for you.’ He indicated a couple of sheets he had folded and placed on her side of the table. ‘The Times doesn’t do fashion.’
She felt her temper flare up like fire in dry wood.
‘Thank you, but I already know exactly what is fashionable, and probably possess it, and frankly I couldn’t be less interested in the appointments for the day of numerous royal grandchildren and their families. I have no intention of attending any of them.’ She sounded waspish, and she knew it. It embarrassed her because it displayed her vulnerability, and yet she did not seem to be able to help it. ‘I am much more interested in politics,’ she added.
There was a minute or two’s silence, then he folded the paper and put it down. ‘Perhaps I should get you a copy of Hansard,’ he suggested, referring to the written report of what had transpired in Parliament.
‘If you can’t remember what happened, then I suppose I shall be reduced to that,’ she responded, this time not even attempting to be polite.
Jack remained impassive, if a little pale. ‘I can remember exactly what happened,’ he said levelly. ‘I just don’t remember anything of the remotest interest. But I was not there all day. Is there something about which you have a particular concern?’
She felt the tears prickle her eyes, which was ridiculous. Grown women, approaching forty, did not weep at the breakfast table, no matter how alone or unnecessary they felt. The only way to stop it was to replace hurt with anger — carefully controlled.
‘You didn’t think that I might from time to time wonder about Dudley Kynaston and the disappearing maid, not to mention the mutilated corpse within a quarter of a mile of his home on Shooters Hill? Of course, if you have declined the offer of a position with him then it is no longer my husband’s future at stake, not to mention my own, it is simply a matter of speculation, much as any other particularly grotesque murder might be.’
Jack was very pale now, and a tiny muscle was ticking on the right side of his face.
Emily swallowed the lump in her throat. Perhaps she had gone too far?
‘I am quite aware of the public speculation on the subject,’ he said gravely. ‘I am also aware that neither the police nor Special Branch has identified the corpse as being that of Kitty Ryder. Somerset Carlisle, who is as irresponsible as a man can be, has used his Parliamentary privilege to suggest that the body is Kitty Ryder, and that her death is connected to her service in Kynaston’s house, but there is no proof of it, or even any evidence.’
‘People won’t care about that!’ she said hotly.
‘I care!’ His voice was hard, angry in a way she had not ever seen before, and it chilled her deeply. This was not the man who had wooed her, adored her, held her in his arms as if he would never let her go. This was someone she barely knew.
Loneliness drowned her, sweeping her off her balance like a riptide.
‘I’ve learned better,’ he said grimly, measuring each word. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t. When George was killed … murdered … many people thought it was you who had done it. Do you remember that? Do you remember how afraid you were? How you felt everyone was against you, and you couldn’t find any way to prove your innocence?’
Her mouth was dry. She tried to swallow and couldn’t. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. Now, suddenly, she could remember it hideously well.
He looked at her very steadily across the table. ‘And what would you think of me if I assumed Dudley Kynaston was guilty of having murdered his wife’s maid, brutally, breaking the bones in her body and mutilating her face, when we don’t even know that she’s dead? Would you admire me for that? Even if I did it so that I wouldn’t be stained by association should it turn out to be true?’
She took a very deep breath and let it out in a sigh.
‘I would not admire you,’ she said quite honestly. Then continuing in the same vein: ‘But I would have appreciated your talking it over with me, so I understood what you were doing, and why. I don’t know how to interpret silence.’
He looked startled, as if it required a moment or two of thought before he understood. ‘Don’t you?’ he said at length. ‘I thought you understood that … I told you …’
‘No, you didn’t!’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking, and I don’t know what you’re going to do.’
‘I don’t know myself,’ he said reasonably. ‘I really can’t believe Dudley would have an affair with a maid …’ He stopped, looking at the lopsided, rueful smile on her face. ‘Not that he’s so righteous, Emily! I know perfectly well that plenty of men do! I just don’t think Dudley Kynaston’s taste runs to maids! Even handsome ones!’ He was very slightly flushed. She saw it in his face, and the way his eyes almost avoided hers, and then didn’t.
‘You know who it is, don’t you?’ she said with conviction.
‘Who what is?’
‘Jack! Don’t play games with me! You know he’s having an affair. You know who with! Which is why you don’t think it is with the maid …’
He was on his feet, and she stood up too. ‘Why on earth don’t you tell Thomas? You could save Kynaston … practically from ruin! Thomas isn’t going to make it public. He’ll keep it just as secret as you do, if it … oh!’ She stared at him, looking into his beautiful, long-lashed eyes, still feeling the beat of her heart shaking her. ‘It’s worse than the maid! Could it really be? Like whom? Someone he can’t ever be seen with …’ Her imagination raced.
‘Emily, stop it!’ he said firmly. ‘I said I didn’t think maids were his taste, that’s all. I don’t know the man that well, and I certainly don’t have his confidence in romantic affairs! Or even merely lustful ones. I very much want to work with him, but I don’t know if it will be possible. I’d rather err on the side of thinking too well of him than of assuming his guilt before there’s even proof of a crime he might be involved in. Wouldn’t you?’
She did not answer. She wanted him safe, and she wanted him to talk to her. Above all she wanted him to love her the way he had before he became a Member of Parliament. But to say so would be appallingly childish, embarrassingly so. She blushed hot at the idea he might even guess that that was what she meant.
‘I imagine I might,’ she agreed. ‘But there’s something in your voice that makes me think you don’t trust him, for all your generous words. I dare say you are right, and he wouldn’t have an affair with a maid, or even take advantage of her in something less emotional than an affair. But there is something wrong, you just don’t know yet whether it is something you should take notice of or not.’
He looked disconcerted for a long moment, then he smiled, with the same warm, easy charm she knew right from the beginning. She should stop telling herself she was not still in love with him. She knew better than to believe such a lie anyway.
‘You have a gift for putting things horribly plainly,’ he said with a degree of approval. ‘You would never be a success in Parliament. I don’t know how you do it in Society. I wouldn’t dare!’
‘You have to smile when you say things people don’t want to hear,’ she replied. ‘Then they think you don’t really mean it. Or at worst, they aren’t sure that you do. And it’s quite different for me anyway; nobody needs to care very much what I think. They can always discount it, if they want to. Except, of course, if I tell them they look marvellous and are up-to-the-minute in fashion. Then, naturally, I am talking perfect sense, and my opinion is infallible.’
He looked at her for a moment, not sure himself how much to believe. Then he shook his head, kissed her briefly but softly on the cheek, and left the room.
It was better than it might have been, not yet a disaster, but it was still very much too close to the brink. She must do something, and not with Charlotte this time. Regardless of who did what, Charlotte always got the credit.
Emily was ideally placed to spend an afternoon with Rosalind Kynaston. She looked through the newspaper Jack had discarded and found a suitable event, and another for tomorrow, and the day after. Then she used her telephone to call Rosalind and invite her to an exhibition of French Impressionist paintings, and then perhaps afternoon tea. Very deliberately she did not invite Ailsa.