by Anne Perry
His voice dropped to a more urgent note. ‘You should go home. You won’t be in any danger. Or else you could go to Vespasia’s house, if you prefer. Perhaps you should wait and see what she says.’ He realised as he spoke that he had no idea what had happened to Pitt, even if he were safe. To send Charlotte back to a house with no one there but a strange maid was possibly a cruel thing to do. She had said before that her sister Emily was away somewhere, similarly her mother. God! What a mess. But if anything had happened to Pitt, no one would be able to comfort her. He could not bear to think of that.
Please heaven whoever was behind this, they did not think Pitt a sufficient danger to have done anything drastic to him. ‘We’ll get off a couple of stations before London,’ he repeated. ‘And call Vespasia.’
‘Good idea,’ she agreed, turning back to watch the gulls circling over the white wake of the ship. The two of them stood side by side in silence, oddly comforted by the endless, rhythmic moving of the water and the pale wings of the birds echoing the curved line of it.
Narraway was connected with Vespasia immediately. Only when he heard the sound of her voice, which was thin and a little crackly over the line, did he realise how overwhelmingly glad he was to speak with her.
‘Victor! Where on earth are you?’ she demanded. Then the instant later: ‘No. Do not tell me. Are you safe? Is Charlotte safe?’
‘Yes, we are both safe,’ he answered her. She was the only woman since his childhood who had ever made him feel as if he were accountable to her. ‘We are not far away, but I thought it better to speak to you before coming the rest of the journey.’
‘Don’t,’ she said simply. ‘It would be far better if you were to find some suitable place, which we shall not name, and we shall meet there. A very great deal has happened since you left, but there is far more that is about to happen. I do not know what that is, except that it is of profound importance, and it may be tragically violent. But I dare say you have deduced that for yourself. I rather fear that your whole trip to Ireland was designed to take you away from London. Everything else was incidental.’
‘Who’s in charge now?’ he asked. A chill seeped into him, even though he was standing in a very comfortable hotel hallway, looking from left to right every few moments to make sure he was still alone and not overheard. ‘Charles Austwick?’
‘No,’ she answered, and there was a heaviness in her voice, even over the wires. ‘That was only temporary. Thomas is back from France. That trip was entirely abortive. He has replaced Austwick, and is now in your office, and hating it.’
Narraway was so stunned for a moment he could think of no words that were adequate to his emotions, certainly none that he could repeat in front of Vespasia, or Charlotte, were she close enough to hear.
‘Victor!’ Vespasia said sharply.
‘Yes. . I’m here. What. . what is going on?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘But I have a great fear that he has been placed there precisely because he cannot possibly cope with whatever atrocity is being planned. He has no experience in this kind of leadership. He has not the deviousness, nor the subtlety of judgement to make the necessary unpleasant decisions. And there is no one there whom he can trust, which at least he knows. I am afraid he is quite appallingly alone, exactly as someone has designed he should be. His remarkable record of success as a policeman, and as a solver of crimes within Special Branch jurisdiction, will justify his being placed in your position. No one will be held to blame for choosing him. .’
‘You mean he’s there to take the blame when this storm breaks,’ Narraway said bitterly.
‘Precisely.’ Vespasia’s voice cracked a little. ‘Victor, we must beat this, and I have very little idea how. I don’t even know what it is they plan, but it is something very, very wrong indeed.’
She was brave; no one he knew had ever had more courage. She was clever and still beautiful; but she was also growing old and at times very much alone. Suddenly he was aware of her vulnerability: of the friends, and even the lovers she had cared for passionately, and lost. She was perhaps fifteen years older than he. Suddenly he thought of her not as a force of society, or of nature, but as a woman, as capable of loneliness as he was himself.
‘Do you remember the hostelry where we met Somerset Carlisle about eight years ago? We had the most excellent lobster for luncheon?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she said unhesitatingly.
‘We should meet there as soon as possible,’ he told her. ‘Bring Pitt. . please.’
‘I shall be there by midnight,’ she replied.
He was startled. ‘Midnight?’
‘For heaven’s sake, Victor!’ she said tartly. ‘What do you want to do, wait until breakfast? Don’t be absurd. You had better reserve us three rooms, in case there is any of the night left for sleeping.’ Then she hesitated.
He wondered why. ‘Lady Vespasia?’
She gave a little sigh. ‘I dislike being offensive, but since I assume you escaped from. . where you were, that you have little money, and I dare say are in less that your usually elegant state, you had better give my name, as if you were booking it for me, and tell them that I shall settle when I arrive. Better if you do not give anyone else’s name, your own, or Thomas’s.’
‘Actually Charlotte had the foresight to pack my case for me, so I have all the respectable attire I shall need,’ he replied with the first flash of amusement he had felt for some time.
‘She did what?’ Vespasia said coolly.
‘She was obliged to leave the lodgings,’ he exclaimed, still with a smile. ‘She did not wish to abandon my luggage so she took it with her. If you don’t know me better than that, you should at least know her!’
‘Quite so,’ she said more gently. ‘I apologise. Indeed, I also know you. I shall see you as close to midnight as I am able to make it. I am very glad you are safe, Victor.’
That meant more to him than he had expected, so much more that he found himself suddenly unable to answer. He replaced the receiver on its hook in silence.
Pitt was at home, sitting at the kitchen table beginning his supper when Minnie Maude came into the room. Her face was pink, her eyes frightened, her usually untamed hair pulled even looser and badly pinned up at one side.
‘What’s the matter?’ Pitt said, instantly worried as well.
Minnie Maude took a deep breath and let it out shakily. ‘There’s a lady ’ere ter see yer, sir. I mean a real lady, like a duchess, or summink. Wot shall I do wif’ ’er, sir?’
‘Oh.’ Pitt felt a wave of relief wash over him, like warmth from a fire on cold flesh. ‘Show her in here, and then put the kettle on again.’
Minnie Maude held her guard. ‘No, sir, I mean a real lady, not jus’ some nice person, like.’
‘Tall and slender, and very beautiful, in spite of the fact that she isn’t young any more,’ Pitt agreed. ‘And eyes that could freeze you at twenty paces, if you step out of line. Lady Vespasia Cumming-Gould. Please ask her to come into the kitchen. She has been in here before. Then make her a cup of tea. We have some Earl Grey. We keep it for her.’
Minnie Maude stared at him as if he had lost his wits.
‘Please,’ he added.
‘Yer’ll pardon me, sir,’ Minnie Maude said shakily. ‘But yer look like yer bin dragged through an ’edge backwards.’
Pitt pushed his hand through his hair. ‘She wouldn’t recognise me if I didn’t. Don’t leave her standing in the hall. Bring her here.’
‘She in’t in the ’all, sir. She’s in the parlour,’ Minnie Maude told him with disgust at his imagining she would do anything less.
‘I apologise. Of course she is. Bring her here anyway.’
Defeated, she went to obey.
Pitt ate the last mouthful of his supper and cleared the table as Vespasia arrived in the doorway.
‘I always liked this room,’ she observed. ‘Thank you, Minnie Maude. Good evening, Thomas. I am sorry to have interrupted your dinner, but
it is unavoidable.’
Behind him Minnie Maude skirted around her and put the kettle onto the hob. Then she began to wash out the teapot in which Pitt’s tea had been made, and prepare it to make a different brew for Vespasia. Her back was very straight and her hands shook just a little.
Pitt did not interrupt Vespasia. He held one of the hard-backed kitchen chairs for her to be seated. She declined to take off her cape.
‘I have just heard from Victor,’ she told him. ‘On the telephone, from a railway station not far from the city. Charlotte was with him, and perfectly well. You have no need to concern yourself about her health, or anything else. However, there are other matters of very great concern indeed. Matters that require your immediate and total attention.’
‘Narraway?’ His mind raced. She was being discreet, no doubt aware that Minnie Maude could hear all they said. It would be cruel, pointless and possibly even dangerous to frighten her unnecessarily. Certainly she did not deserve it, apart from the very practical matter that he needed her common sense to care for his household and, most importantly, his children — at least until Charlotte returned. And, he admitted, he rather liked her. She was good-natured and not without spirit. There was something about her not totally unlike Gracie.
‘Indeed.’ Vespasia turned to Minnie Maude. ‘When you have made the tea, will you please go and pack a small case for your master, with what he will need for one night away from home. Clean personal linen and a clean shirt, and his customary toiletries. When you have it, bring it downstairs and leave it in the hall by the bottom step.’
Minnie Maude’s eyes widened. She blinked, as if wondering whether she dare confirm the orders with Pitt, or if she should simply obey them. Who was in charge?
They were giving the poor girl a great deal to become accustomed to in a very short while. Pitt smiled at her. ‘Please do that, Minnie Maude. It appears I shall have to leave you. But also, I shall return before too long.’
‘You may be extremely busy for some time,’ Vespasia corrected him. ‘It is a very good thing that Minnie Maude is a responsible girl. You will need her. Now let us have tea and prepare to leave.’
As soon as the tea was poured and Minnie Maude was out of the room Pitt turned to Vespasia. The look on his face demanded she explain.
‘It is a conclusion no longer avoidable that both you and Victor were drawn away from London for a very specific purpose,’ she said, sipping delicately at her tea. ‘Victor was put out of office, with an attempt to have him at least imprisoned in Ireland, possibly hanged. You were lured away from London before that, so you, as the only person at Lisson Grove with an unquestionable personal loyalty to him, and the courage to fight for him, would not be there. He would be friendless, as indeed he was.’
Pitt would have interrupted Narraway to ask why, but he did not dare interrupt Vespasia.
‘It appears that Charles Austwick is involved,’ she continued. ‘To what degree, and for what purpose, we do not yet know, but the plot is widespread, dangerous and probably violent.’
‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘I think after all I can rely on Stoker, but so far as I can see, at the moment, he is the only one. There will be more, but I don’t know who they are, and I can’t afford any mistakes. Even one could be fatal. What I don’t understand is why Austwick made so little fuss at being removed from the leadership. It makes me fear that there is someone else who knows every move I make and who is reporting to him.’
She set her cup down. ‘The answer is uglier than that, my dear,’ she said very quietly. ‘I think that what is planned is so wide and so final in its result that they wish you to be there to take the blame for Special Branch’s failure to prevent it. Then the Branch can be recreated from the beginning with none of the experienced men who are there now, and be completely in the control of those who are behind this. Or alternatively, it might be disbanded altogether, as a force that has served its purpose in the past, but is now manifestly no longer needed.’
The thought was so devastating that it took Pitt several moments to grasp the full import of it. He was not promoted for merit, but as someone completely dispensable, a Judas goat to be sacrificed when Special Branch took the blame for failing to prevent some disaster. He should have been furiously angry, and he would be, in time, when he absorbed the enormity of it and had time to think of himself. Now all he could deal with was the nature of the plot, and who was involved. How could they ever begin to fight against it?
He looked at Vespasia. He was startled to see the gentleness in her face, a deep and hurting compassion.
He forced himself to smile at her. In the same circumstances she would never have spent time pitying herself. He would not let her down by doing so.
‘I’m trying to think what I would have been working on had I not gone to St Malo,’ he said. ‘I don’t know if poor West was actually going to tell me anything that mattered, such as that Gower was a traitor, or if he was killed only to get me chasing Wrexham to France. I thought it was the former, but perhaps it wasn’t. Certainly that was the end of my involvement over here.’
‘If you had been here you might have prevented Victor from having been removed from office,’ she concluded. ‘On the other hand, you might have been implicated in the same thing, and removed also. .’ She stopped.
He shrugged. ‘Or killed.’ He said what he knew she was thinking. ‘Sending me to France was better, much less obvious. Also, it seems they want me here now, to take the blame for this failure that is about to descend on us. I’ve been trying to think what cases we were most concerned with, what we may have learned had we had time.’
‘We will consider it in my carriage on the way to our appointment,’ Vespasia said, finishing her tea. ‘Minnie Maude will have your case packed any moment, and we should be on our way.’
He rose and went to say good night, and — for the very immediate future — goodbye to his children. He gave Minnie Maude last instructions, and a little more money to ascertain that she had sufficient. Then he collected his case and went outside to Vespasia’s carriage where it was waiting in the street. Within seconds they were moving briskly.
‘I’ve already looked over everything that happened shortly before I left, and in Austwick’s notes since,’ he began. ‘And in the reports from other people. I did it with Stoker. We saw something that I don’t yet understand, but it is very alarming.’
‘What is it?’ she asked quickly.
He told her about the violent men who had been seen in several different parts of England, and watched her face grow pale and very grave as he told her how old enemies had been seen together, as if they had a common cause.
‘This is very serious,’ she agreed. ‘There is something I also have heard whispers of while you were away. I dismissed it at first as being the usual idealistic talk that has always been around among dreamers, always totally impractical. For example, certain social reformers seem to be creating plans as if they could get them through the House of Commons without difficulty. Some of the reforms were radical, and yet I admit there is a certain justice to them. I assumed they were simply naive, but perhaps there is some major element that I have missed.’
They rode in silence for the length of Woburn Place towards Euston Road, then turned right with the stream of traffic and continued north until it became the Pentonville Road.
‘I fear I know what element you have missed,’ Pitt said at last.
‘Violence?’ she asked. ‘I cannot think of any one man, or even group of men, who would pass some of the legislation they are proposing. It would be pointless anyway. It would be sent back by the House of Lords, and then they would have to begin again. By that time the opposition would have collected its wits, and its arguments. They must know that.’
‘Of course they do,’ he agreed. ‘But if there were no House of Lords. .’
The streetlamps outside seemed harsh, the rattle of the carriage wheels unnaturally loud. ‘Another Gunpowder Plot?’ she asked. ‘The c
ountry would be outraged. We hanged, drew and quartered Guy Fawkes and his conspirators. We might not be quite so barbaric this time, but I wouldn’t risk all I valued on it.’ Her face was momentarily in the shadows as a higher, longer carriage passed between them and the nearest streetlamps.
They arrived at the hostelry Narraway had chosen nearly an hour later, tired, chilly and uncomfortable. They greeted each other briefly, with intense emotion, then allowed the landlord to show them to the rooms they would occupy for the night. Then they were offered a private lounge where they might have whatever refreshments they wished, and be otherwise uninterrupted.
Pitt was filled with emotion to see Charlotte; joy just at the sight of her face, anxiety that she looked so tired. He was relieved that she was safe when she so easily might not have been, frustrated that he had no opportunity to be alone with her, even for a moment; and angry that she had been in such danger. She had acted recklessly and with no reference to his opinion or feelings. He felt painfully excluded. Narraway had been there and he had not. His reaction was childish — he was ashamed of it — but that did nothing to lessen its sharpness.
Then he looked at Narraway, and in spite of himself his anger melted. The man was exhausted. The lines in his face seemed more deeply cut, as if made with some instrument that dragged the skin down as it scored them into his cheeks. His dark eyes were bruised around the sockets and he brushed his hair back impatiently with his thin, strong hands as if it were in his way.
They glanced at each other, no one knowing who was in command. Narraway had led Special Branch for years, but it was Pitt’s job now. And yet neither of them would disregard Vespasia’s seniority.
Vespasia smiled. ‘For heaven’s sake, Thomas, don’t sit there like a schoolboy waiting for permission to speak. You are the Commander of Special Branch. What is your judgement of the situation? We will add to it, should we have something to offer.’