Caroline wanted to pursue the subject, but it was too blatant, and she found herself stuck for words. Apparently Charlotte felt no such qualms.
“Since you are so obviously happy with Mr. O’Neil, I am surprised they still think of your first husband.” She lifted her voice at the end to make it half a question.
Kathleen looked down.
“If you knew the circumstances you might understand,” she said very quietly, almost under her breath. “You see, Kingsley was murdered. There was a great scandal at the time, and a big court case when they caught the man who killed him. And then even though he was convicted, he appealed.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “Of course they denied it, and he was hanged soon afterwards. There was a great deal of feeling; people seemed to care so very much.” A faint surprise crossed her face, as though even with hindsight she still found it incomprehensible. “People who knew nothing about us wrote letters to the Times. Members of Parliament spoke about it in the House of Commons, demanding that the conviction stand, and such barbarity be punished to the utmost, for all our sakes. It was terribly distressing. There seemed never a second we could escape from it.”
“It must have been dreadful,” Charlotte agreed. “I can barely imagine such a thing.” She glanced at Caroline briefly, hoping she understood the apology she intended for what she was about to say. “Although my own eldest sister was murdered, several years ago now, so I do have the deepest sympathy with you.”
Kathleen looked startled, and then immediately profoundly sympathetic. She regarded Charlotte anxiously. “Does that sound heartless? But you cannot grieve at fever pitch all the time. You get so tired, so incredibly weary. You need to be able to think of something else for a space, just to remind yourself that there is still a normal life separate from your loss.” She smiled self-consciously, then instantly was grave again. “You see, all London seemed to be obsessed with our tragedy and the horror of it. They talked about it day and night.”
“However, the court case was over quickly,” Charlotte hastened on. “And there was no appeal. The poor creature was quite mad.” She frowned. “Why on earth did this man appeal? Surely there can have been no purpose but to prolong everyone’s agony?”
“He always maintained he was not guilty.” Kathleen bit her lip. “Right to the gallows steps, so I heard.” She looked down at her hands clenched in her lap. “I sometimes have nightmares that that was true, and he died just as wrongfully as poor Kingsley—and in a way, even more terribly, because it was cold-blooded, if we can say such a thing of so public a rage.” She looked up at Charlotte. “I’m sorry. This is quite an appalling thing to be discussing with people one barely knows who have called for tea. I am ashamed of myself, but you were so quick to understand—and I do appreciate that.”
“Please don’t apologize,” Charlotte said quickly. “I would far rather discuss reality. I assure you I am not in the least interested in the weather, I know very little of society, and I care even less. And I cannot afford to be fashionable.”
On any other occasion Caroline would have kicked Charlotte under her skirt for such indiscreet candor, but this time she cared far too much about the real issue behind their presence.
Kathleen smiled ruefully. “You really are the most refreshing person to speak with, Miss Pitt. I am so grateful you came.”
Charlotte felt a stab of guilt, then thought of Aaron Godman, and it was immediately overridden.
“I should not let it trouble you,” she said gently. “Some people will protest, even when they are most certainly responsible for what happened. Why was he supposed to have done such a thing? Robbery? Or did they know each other?”
“They knew each other,” Kathleen said very quietly indeed. “Kingsley, my husband, was having an affaire with the man’s sister, and she believed he would marry her—which of course was nonsense. But she was misled, as women so often are, when they are in love.” A sad reflective smile touched her lips, utterly without bitterness. “We all have our dreams, and some are so precious it is not easy to let them go.”
“How dreadful for you.” Charlotte meant it wholeheartedly. The thought of Pitt even entertaining desires for another woman was acutely painful. How she would bear it if she learned he was actually having an affaire she had no idea. “I am so terribly sorry!”
Caroline was silent, allowing Charlotte to lead the conversation.
Kathleen heard the anguish in Charlotte’s voice and shook her head a tiny fraction, dismissing the grief.
“Oh, Kingsley was very charming, and amusing, and generous,” she said gently. “And I never saw him in an ill temper, but I always knew he was weak. He liked to please, which can be a fault as well as a virtue. I imagine he loved her also, and never found the courage to hurt her by telling her the truth.” She looked at Charlotte with wide, dark eyes. Then, as if reading her thoughts: “You see, he had very little money of his own. We lived quite well because Kingsley did small jobs for Papa, in his business. He was so charming he was excellent at entertaining people and cementing a bargain. But if he had left me, society would have ostracized him completely, and Papa would have made quite certain that any chance he might have had would be ruined.”
Her eyes softened. “Papa can be such a gentle man, I cannot imagine anyone more patient or concerned than he is with my children, and he is always affectionate with me, and with Grandmama. But he can be very different when he detects cruelty or dishonesty in people. He hates evil with a passion—and he would have regarded Kingsley leaving me to be quite evil. And for all his ease and pleasantness, Kingsley knew that.”
“And it could not have been a chance robbery?” Charlotte tried to put concern in her tone, as though she did not already know possibly more of the facts than Kathleen herself.
“I doubt it.” Kathleen winced. “It was far too dreadful and pointless a thing to have done simply to rob someone. And it did—it did seem to have been someone Jewish. I think that is why Grandmama now feels so strongly about them. She was very fond of Kingsley.”
“Oh dear—you must have suffered greatly.” Charlotte meant it. “I should not trouble yourself anymore with doubts about”—she caught herself just in time from mentioning his name—“the man who was hanged. After all, if it was not he, then who could it have been?”
“I don’t know.” Kathleen shrugged very slightly. “I wondered if it was the other actor—did I say that the man they hanged was an actor? No. Well, he was. You see, it was an actress Kingsley was having an affaire with.” For all her frankness, she still avoided saying “in love.”
Charlotte swallowed. “The other actor?”
“Yes—Joshua Fielding. He is Jewish also—and he was in love with Kingsley’s actress.”
“You think he was jealous?” Charlotte asked, her throat tight, painfully aware of Caroline sitting rigid a few feet away, her hands clenched hard in her elegant gloves.
“Or that he knew Kingsley would never marry her,” Kathleen replied. “And he hated him for hurting her, albeit without really intending to. Kingsley had a terrible quarrel with him only a couple of days before he was killed.”
“With—Joshua Fielding?” Caroline interrupted for the first time. Her face was white and her voice husky.
Kathleen turned to her, as if only now fully aware of her presence.
“Yes. He came home most upset and with his clothes ruffled and dirty. I think it must have been very fierce.”