He came in now and greeted her warmly. The maid took his hat and coat, and he kissed Vespasia lightly on the cheek. He accepted her invitation to sit and assured her that he would be delighted to take tea with her.
The years had been kind to him. The touch of grey at the temples lent him a maturity, the few fine lines in his face deepened the sense of character, even gravity rather than mere handsomeness. But in spite of his smile, she could see that he was worried.
‘Please, my dear, don’t waste time leading up gracefully to whatever it is that concerns you,’ she requested.
He smiled, relief easing out the worst of the tension in his body.
‘Thank you. I dare say Emily has told you that I have the offer of a position working with Dudley Kynaston. It is something I would enjoy. He is an interesting man with a fine mind, and — more than that — I would be working on something specific rather than chasing many general subjects.’ He hesitated. ‘However, I know that Thomas has been investigating Kynaston because of the maid that went missing from his house, and then the body in the gravel pit nearby, which so resembled her. Somerset Carlisle was asking questions in the House, with the unspoken implication that there was a scandal about to break. That has not happened, but neither has the maid been found, or the body identified.’ He stopped, waiting for Vespasia to offer some reaction.
‘Yes, I am aware of these things,’ she agreed. ‘You are concerned to make the right judgement?’
He looked embarrassed. ‘I can’t afford to accept the position, and then find it has disappeared. I know Emily has private means, but I have always refused to live on her first husband’s estate, which is in trust for Edward, anyway. It is not pride, it is …’
‘Honour,’ she said for him. ‘It is not pompous to say so. I understand, and respect you for it. Not only can you not afford to lose the income from an excellent additional position to that of Member of Parliament, but you cannot afford the question of your judgement, should it transpire that Kynaston is involved in something uglier than unfaithfulness to his wife …’
Jack winced. ‘You say that easily, as if I might think it acceptable …’
She smiled at him. ‘You are too sensitive, my dear. I was not thinking anything of the sort. Whom you knew, or how well you knew them before you married Emily is not of interest to me, nor do I believe is it to her. It is completely unacceptable to me to betray trust, but I am perfectly aware that it happens far more often than one would wish. You cannot afford to judge other men on that, when considering whether you wish to work with them or not. It is a luxury beyond most of us, so we all pretend we do not know. On the whole, it works very well.’
‘Not if you murder the maid and dump her body in a nearby gravel pit,’ Jack said unhappily and with a hint of bitterness.
‘Have you asked Emily’s opinion about it?’ Vespasia asked, almost as if the idea had been an afterthought.
Jack shook his head. ‘I don’t want to worry her with it. She shouldn’t be asked to make this decision for me, nor carry the burden of it if I’m wrong.’
‘She may wish to,’ Vespasia replied.
‘Emily doesn’t like anxiety,’ he told her. ‘Especially when there is nothing she can do.’
Vespasia smiled. ‘Do you mean there is nothing she can do, or that you would really rather that she did not attempt anything, and you are worried that if you tell her, she will try to help you?’ It was a question so direct as to be blunt, but she knew how many misunderstandings were created by the use of euphemisms. One ended up being so oblique nobody knew what on earth you were talking about.
He looked at her earnestly. ‘I’m trying to look after her! I want to make the right decision, and then present her with it. She’s been unhappy lately. I don’t know why, and she won’t tell me. I think she’s either bored with me, or she wants me to make a decision without having to be guided, but of course if she said that to me, it would be guidance in itself.’
Vespasia sighed. ‘For all your charm, you don’t know women very well, do you! Would you try that protective manner with Charlotte?’
He was startled.
‘No … she’d hate it. But I’m not married to Charlotte. We would disagree about everything, and it wouldn’t matter-’ He stopped abruptly.
‘My dear, you could disagree with Emily and it wouldn’t matter,’ she assured him. ‘What you must not do is ignore her. If you continue with it much longer she will begin to think you are interested in someone else …’
‘She knows better than that.’ Now his voice was filled with emotion. ‘I adore her. In fact I dare not tell her so, because she hates growing older, but I think maturity suits her. She seems more … more earthy, more reachable. I don’t feel as if she’s infallible any more, too confident, too ethereal to need my support, or protection …’ He faltered to a stop, looking as if he had said more than he meant to. He bit his lip and looked away from Vespasia, down at the table. ‘I’m afraid she will resent being helped with anything, she is so sufficient …’
Vespasia reached across and touched his arm very lightly. ‘My dear Jack, one of the advantages of growing older is that we begin to accept that none of us can manage without friends, people to love and people who love us, even now and then a little help and a little criticism, if it is gently given. You may find that even Emily has learned some wisdom.’
He looked at her with a flash of hope.
‘My advice regarding Dudley Kynaston is not to commit yourself just yet,’ she continued. ‘Find some excuse to wait a week or so. Think of some other matters you wish to deal with, some other commitment you must conclude. And ask Emily’s opinion, whether you actually take her advice or not.’
He flashed her a bright, utterly charming smile. ‘I will do. May I have another jam tart? Suddenly I am hungry, and they are delicious.’
‘They are there for you,’ she replied. ‘You may have them all.’
Vespasia had dinner with Victor Narraway. She had hesitated whether to accept his invitation or not. She could see Emily’s situation so clearly, yet she was confused as to her own. She enjoyed Narraway’s company more than that of anyone else she could recall. He had always been easy for her to talk to, to agree or disagree. Yet lately she had felt a peculiar vulnerability in his company, as if somewhere during their friendship she had lost the emotional armour she had kept safely in place for so many years. She found herself caring if he called again, even allowing her imagination to wonder what he thought of her, and if their friendship were as valuable to him as it was to her.
She was older than he, a knowledge which came with a degree of pain. It had never been of the slightest importance before. Now, absurdly, it mattered. He seemed completely unaware of it, but then he was far too well-mannered to allow such an ungallant thing to show. And it was clearly irrelevant. Of course it was. What was she allowing herself to think?
Because she could come up with no graceful way of declining, she accepted and found herself enjoying a late supper at one of her favourite restaurants.
However, they had barely finished their first course and were waiting for the second to arrive when he became very serious.
‘There has been a development in Pitt’s case,’ he said quietly, leaning a little forward across the table so as to be able to keep his voice very low, and yet be certain she could hear him. ‘It seems that the maid, Ryder, who left Dudley Kynaston’s house in the middle of the night, has been seen alive and well since then, proving that it was not her body in the gravel pit.’