‘She were Mr Bennett’s wife,’ she answered, staring at him almost without blinking. ‘But before that, she were someone else’s wife … in Sweden.’
He blinked. ‘Does that matter? Or are you saying she was still married to him? Then her marriage to Bennett would be bigamous. Is there money involved? Did she inherit from Bennett?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. She seems sort of … comfortable, but not rich.’
‘And Mr Kynaston knew that you’d found that out? How did you find it out anyway?’
‘She were staying a day or two with Mrs Rosalind, like she did quite often. I had some cream for her, special made to keep ladies’ hands white and soft. I’d made enough for both ladies, an’ I took some to her.’ She was watching Stoker carefully, her eyes never leaving his face.
‘She has this ring she always wears, sort of wide and a bit flat, with stones set in it, but not like usual. Just little stones, and she never takes it off. But she had to for this, ’cos the cream would get in it, maybe even not be good for it.’
‘Go on,’ he urged.
‘I went in to turn the bed down, an’ she was sitting there using the cream on her hands. The rings were on the table by the bedside. I moved them in case the bedcover flipped over them and knocked them off. I saw what was inside the special one.’
‘What was it?’ His mind raced.
‘“Anders and Ailsa, July 1881 — and forever”,’ she answered. ‘I must have froze, because I looked at the mirror on the dressing table where she was sitting, and I saw her staring back at me. I wanted to say something but my tongue was stuck in my mouth and I felt the room was swaying round me like I was at sea. The look in her eyes, she would have killed me. Then I heard Mr Kynaston coming up the top o’ the stairs and along the landing. She changed all of a sudden like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and she were all sweet an’ gentle with him. I went out past him and down the stairs into the kitchen.’
‘How was she next time you saw her?’ Stoker asked.
Kitty’s face was pale. ‘I only saw her once, going across the hall. I heard her tell Mr Kynaston that there was something missing from the room, something valuable. I knew she was going to say as I took it.’ She closed her eyes, then opened them again suddenly, staring at him. ‘I did something stupid. I couldn’t afford to lose my place, or my character either. Nobody’s going to take on a maid who steals!’ she gulped. ‘I stopped and I said to Mrs Kynaston that I’d be happy to come with her and help her look for it. I looked straight at her when I said it, too. If what were written on that ring mattered that much, then let him see it too! She knew exactly what I meant, and she changed her mind. Said to him that she probably hadn’t brought it with her, and she was sorry for making a mistake. Then she looked daggers at me, and went on up to bed.’
He admired her courage, if not her sense.
‘Did you tell Mr and Mrs Kynaston about the ring?’ he asked.
‘No. I went to the kitchen and waited till everyone had gone to bed, then I just left.’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘I went out the back door and just kept walking. It wasn’t that far to the pub, and I knew they’d put me up for the night, till I could get as far as Harry’s the next day. I knew he’d look after me. But it weren’t long before someone came asking questions, and I couldn’t stay. Not fair to him neither, because I didn’t want to marry him. I like him well enough, but not that much.’
‘And how did the blood and hair get onto the steps from the areaway to the street? And the broken glass?’
She looked down, clearly embarrassed.
‘It doesn’t make sense,’ he said quietly. ‘I have to know.’
She raised her eyes. ‘I’m not lying! Everything I told you was true.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Mrs Ailsa came after me into the kitchen. I knew she was ’oping to get me. She had a glass in her hand and she was smiling. I ran for the back door and she came after me. We fought on the steps. It was my hair she pulled out, but her blood … Just from her finger where she broke the glass. I didn’t hurt her, I swear! I didn’t even try-’
‘I know,’ he said quickly. ‘Thank you. I don’t know why it matters enough to come after you, but it must have something to do with what we suspect about treason. You stay here with Gwen. Don’t tell anybody else about this — in fact don’t talk to anyone at all until I tell you it’s all right.’
She looked at him. ‘What happens if you don’t catch them?’
‘I will catch them,’ he said a little rashly. ‘I always catch them. But I’m not alone. There are lots of us. Just stay safe here.’ He stood up. ‘Gwen’ll look after you until I come back again. I may not do that for a little while. I’ll be busy, and … and you’ll be safe if no one knows you are here. Gwen’s name’s different from mine. No one around’ll connect her with me. Please … do as I say!’
She nodded, her eyes suddenly filling with tears as she realised that for a little while, at least, she was safe.
He said good night to Gwen and her husband in the kitchen, and thanked her again. Then he went out into the night smiling to himself, his step light, the ground easy under his feet.
Pitt telephoned Narraway at home and was told that he had gone to the House of Lords. An hour later he had received a message from Narraway, in answer to his request. They met on the Embankment. It was still only a little past ten in the morning and the March wind had a new softness to it. It was easy to believe that spring would begin in a day or two.
Briefly Pitt told Narraway what Stoker had told him when he had arrived at Keppel Street a minute or two after seven. Narraway listened as they walked, without interrupting.
‘Then it seems inescapable that Ailsa Kynaston is the force behind Dudley’s betrayal of his country,’ Narraway said when Pitt had finished. ‘The questions are why, and to whom is he giving the secrets of our naval submarine plans, which possibly cover the whole area of weapons, on which our survival might depend! We need to know a hell of a lot more about her!’
‘And Bennett,’ Pitt added. ‘Perhaps about his death. It may be irrelevant, but it more likely has something to do with it. And we need to do it very quickly.’
Narraway gave a brief, tight smile. ‘I hadn’t thought you were telling me simply to satisfy my curiosity. That would have done over dinner, when you had the solution.’
Pitt made no excuses. ‘You have connections I don’t, people you know who won’t trust me yet. I’m going to speak to Sir John Ransom and find out exactly what Kynaston has knowledge of, and see what I can learn from him. I’ve got to discover where the information is going, and through whom. What a mess!’
‘Be careful how you tell Ransom,’ Narraway warned. ‘He may find it very hard to believe. The whole Kynaston family has been highly respected for several generations.’ His face pinched as he said it, imagining the grief, the refusal to accept what would in the end prove to be unavoidable.
‘He already has a good idea of it,’ Pitt replied, remembering Carlisle’s account, and his sadness for a friend betrayed. He turned and smiled at Narraway, a mirthless means of communicating that he had no intention of telling him how he knew. It was not that he did not trust Narraway, but that he did not want to place on him the burden of keeping it from Vespasia. Neither of them yet knew where this was going to lead.
Narraway did not press him.
‘I’ll let you know immediately,’ Pitt added, coming to a stop along the path. The wind off the river was still cool, the bright sun on the water deceptive. ‘Tell me if you learn anything new that would help.’
Pitt recalled Kynaston’s study and the paintings he had said were of Sweden, several of them clearly attached to memories. He mentioned them, then thanked Narraway and turned to walk back to Westminster Bridge. He was not looking forward to having to tell Ransom what he now knew, but since it was unavoidable, the sooner it was done, the better. This was his job, one of the darkest sides of it.