Charlotte was standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding her dressing gown around her to keep warm.
“Are you sure you want to arrest him at his parents’ home?” she asked anxiously. “This early his father will be there. He won’t make it easy for you.”
“I know that.” He touched her arm gently. “But at least he will be there to be some support to his wife. If I wait it will look as if I’ve deliberately done it behind Godfrey’s back. I can’t afford to leave it, Charlotte. He’s very likely to do something more, and there could be someone else killed.”
“I know…I know.” She was arguing for no reason, and they both understood that. She just could not accept it easily. Silence might imply consent.
He kissed her, then, without looking back, put on his coat. He added a thick scarf, which was definitely unfashionable, but was a remembrance of the old days when he was simply a policeman, and he did not have to think more than superficially about politics. He jammed his hat on at an unintentionally rakish angle and went outside.
The traffic was beginning to get heavy, but even so, he arrived at the Duncannons’ house far sooner than he wished. But it was a delusion to think that he would ever be sufficiently prepared for the emotional tragedy that was about to play out.
He found Stoker tired and cold about fifty feet away from the house, half-sheltered from sight by a tree.
“Still there,” he said quietly as Pitt came up to him. “We going to take him? Will two of us be enough?”
“Yes. He wants to go…poor devil,” Pitt said quietly. “Come on. Let’s get it over.”
The butler looked startled to see him, especially with Stoker at his back. Pitt did not expect violence, least of all from Alexander, but he would be a fool if he did not prepare for the possibility.
“Good morning, sir?” the butler said coolly. It had been a footman who answered the door when Pitt came here on Boxing Day. Pitt did not look like the usual kind of gentleman who called on Godfrey Duncannon. His hat was too casual, the scarf was a disaster. What kind of man wore such a thing? He did not notice Pitt’s beautiful boots, which were an indulgence he had continued ever since the first expensive pair he had been given. A policeman is on his feet too much to ill-treat them.
“Good morning,” Pitt replied. He put his card on the silver tray in the butler’s hand. It carried his rank in a discreet print that was nevertheless highly legible. “I require to see Mr. Godfrey Duncannon and Mr. Alexander on business that cannot wait. If you would be good enough to present my card…? I will wait in the morning room. Sergeant Stoker will wait in the hall.”
The butler blinked. Clearly he considered arguing, and then thought better of it. He pulled the door wide open and allowed them both inside. The house was old and long cared-for with both money and dedication. At another time Pitt would have admired the carved mahogany balustrade and the portraits on the walls. Today he thought only of what was ahead of them.
He was shown to the morning room, which was cold because the fire had barely caught. The dark wood paneling and the green leather furniture made it feel even colder. It was early in the New Year, and the cheer of Christmas had already faded.
Pitt stood as the minutes ticked by. Did Alexander already know why he was here? Surely he must.
Finally Godfrey Duncannon came in and closed the door behind him. He faced Pitt grimly, his skin pale and papery, his thick hair immaculate, but somehow looking lifeless.
“I understand you wish to see me, Commander Pitt,” he said, meeting Pitt’s eyes unflinchingly. “It must be urgent indeed for you to interrupt breakfast. You had better tell me what it is you want.”
Could he really be so unaware? Or did he know, and he was playing out the charade to the bitter end?
“I know it is early,” Pitt replied. “I considered waiting until later in the day, but I thought it better to do the thing while you were at home and able to offer your wife some comfort, and decide in private what steps you wish to take.”
“Regarding what, for heaven’s sake? Spit it out, man.”
“I have come to arrest Alexander for the bombing in Lancaster Gate, and the resulting deaths of three police officers and the serious injury of two more.”
Duncannon stared at him. He stood absolutely motionless, and the last vestige of color drained from his skin. In that moment Pitt had the wild idea that he had actually never considered this possibility. Had he refused to acknowledge it? Or imagined that Alexander would not be charged?
“That…is…that is absurd!” he said at last. “Why on earth would my son do such an appalling thing?” His voice shook. “The idea is preposterous! Is this some political ploy to stop the contract going through? Is that what you’re after? Who’s behind it?”
Pitt was embarrassed for him. He was making a fool of himself.
“I very much hope the contract does go through, sir,” he said gravely. “But whether it does or not, I can no longer put off arresting your son for the Lancaster Gate bombing.”
“Why on earth would he do such a thing? You are making yourself ridiculous!” Duncannon tried one more time.
“To draw attention to police corruption the only way he knows how,” Pitt replied. “No one would listen to him-”
“For God’s sake!” Duncannon’s rage exploded at last. “He’s addicted to opium, man! He’s off in a fairyland of his own! He can’t face it that his friend, what’s his name-Lezant-was guilty. He can’t bear to think it. He needs rest, in a hospital of some sort.”
“That might have been an excellent idea a few months ago,” Pitt agreed. “It’s too late now-”
“You’ve got your facts twisted,” Duncannon cut across him. “Taking the easiest answer. It’s anarchists of some sort, whom you damned well should have found. The city is full of them.” He turned toward the door.
“Sir! I intend to arrest him. We can either do this in a discreet way, or you can make an incident out of it and I shall be obliged to do it by force. I don’t think that is what you wish, for your son or for your wife.”
Duncannon’s eyebrows shot upward. “Are you threatening me, sir?”
Pitt hated doing it. He could imagine how he might have felt if someone had come to arrest Daniel. But he would not be bluffed.
“If you wish to look at it that way, then yes, sir, I am. The law applies to your family just as it does to any other man’s. I give you the courtesy of doing it in private, and in your presence. I could as easily have waited until he left and arrested him in the street.”
“You are a disgrace to your service, sir!” Duncannon spat the words, but he snatched the handle and flung the door open. He turned back and looked at Pitt disdainfully. “Then you had better come and arrest my son in the dining room, where he and his mother are having breakfast. I trust you will not expect me to offer you tea?”
Pitt did not reply. He followed Duncannon across the hall, nodding to Stoker as he went, and then into the dining room.
Cecily Duncannon was sitting at the foot of the table, Alexander beside her. He looked gaunt and very pale, but he faced Pitt without surprise. If he was afraid, now that the moment had come, he did not show it. He rose from his seat slowly, swayed for an instant, then straightened himself.
“I imagine you have come for me at last,” he said to Pitt. “I am obliged that you did it here, and not somewhere more comfortable for you. Perhaps not easier, but then nothing would make it easy, but at least discreet. My father can pretend it was simply a social call…a little early in the day.” He made a good attempt at a smile.
“You are not going with them, Alexander,” Duncannon said firmly. “We will contact Studdert, and then go in at our leisure.”
Alexander looked past his father toward Pitt. “Studdert is our family solicitor. I don’t wish to consult him. Mr. Pitt and I already understand each other. Thank you, Father, but I will take care of my own affairs.” He moved away from the table just as Cecily stood up also. She did not look confused, only desperately unhappy. Pitt was certain in that moment that she already knew how this would have to end. Indeed, she too had been expecting it.