A Christmas Hope
Page 13
Tolly blinked and shivered, staring at Claudine. “I realize that I do not know you at all, Mrs. Burroughs. You are frightening.”
“Life is frightening,” Claudine corrected her. “And beautiful and full of strange and unexpected opportunities. This is one of them.”
“I will speak to Ernest,” Tolly said in little more than a whisper. “I expect him home within half an hour.”
“Good.” Claudine smiled. “I will wait with you.” She returned to the chair by the fire and sat down again.
Ernest did not struggle against the inevitable for more than a moment or two. The weight of the evidence against him was overwhelming, and the chance to play a hero too great to forfeit. He conceded, shamefacedly, that the truth was exactly as Alphonsine had said. If the fact that she was in love with another man distressed him, he hid it. Claudine believed that it was a greater wound to his pride than his heart, but he bore it with more dignity than she had expected.
It would also be a blow to his financial expectations, but he did not mention that at all.
She was not sure, but she had a strange feeling that some small part of him would be relieved to escape the imprisonment of his friendship with Creighton and Cecil. They would hate him for what they might well see as a betrayal, but there would be those who would respect him. At the very least, he would be free to be his own man: less daring, less outrageous, but a good deal truer to the best in himself.
The next day Forbes Gifford went with Alphonsine and John Barton to the station, and they offered their testimony as to exactly what they had seen on the night Winnie Briggs was struck. Claudine confirmed what she had found when she arrived on the terrace, which agreed with their account.
Then in embarrassment and some shame, Ernest Halversgate asked if he might amend his previous account of the incident and confess to what had really happened. Sergeant Green allowed him to do so and then to sign his statement.
When it was over, the charges against Dai Tregarron were withdrawn, and he was set free. As he walked out of the prison doors he met Claudine, who was not willing to accept anything as accomplished until she had seen it for herself.
He stopped in front of her, blinking as if he had only just seen the sunlight.
“Thank you,” he said simply. “You believed in me more than I believed in you. It’s a long time since anything like that happened.”
It occurred to her to say something a little humbling, in case he imagined his charm had inspired her to do it. Then she saw the pain in his eyes, the self-criticism, and changed her mind. He did not need that kind of cautioning. He was already more than sufficiently aware of his own weaknesses.
“Don’t do it again,” she said gently. “I think we had a good deal of luck this time.”
“I’ll send you white flowers, Olwen,” he said quietly. Then with a nod of his head, he turned and walked out into the street.
She would tell Wallace in time, but first she would go to the clinic in Portpool Lane and tell Squeaky Robinson. He deserved that, and quite apart from his deserving it, she simply wanted to share the moment with him.
She walked into his office and found him sitting at his desk, sheets of paper with figures spread in front of him, his fingers stained with ink.
“Well, what now?” he asked as she closed the door behind her.
“I just thought I’d let you know,” she replied. “We did it. They withdrew the charges against Mr. Tregarron, and he is free.”
Squeaky tried to keep a straight face, and failed. He could not keep the grin from spreading wide. He stood up and fetched a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard near the fireplace, and two mismatched glasses. He poured a good measure into each and passed one to her.
She did not even like whiskey, but she took it anyway.
“Here’s to you,” he said with a deep sigh. “You got no sense at all, but all the courage in the world. Saved a man’s life, you did, and gave him the chance to save his soul. Let’s hope he takes it.”
“Nonsense,” she said briskly, but she knew her face was coloring with pleasure. “But I have learned something good about myself. I can stand up to people who have more power than I do, and fight for what I believe in.” She took a large mouthful of whiskey and winced as the fire of it slid down her throat. The taste was indeed unpleasant. “Here’s to Christmas,” she said a little hoarsely. “And to the rebirth of dreams.”
Squeaky shook his head in amazement. “Here’s to you, Mrs. B.” He emptied the glass in one gulp, and it slid down his throat like silk.
To all those who would
carry the light
THE CHRISTMAS NOVELS OF
ANNE PERRY
A Christmas Journey
A Christmas Visitor
A Christmas Guest
A Christmas Secret
A Christmas Beginning
A Christmas Grace
A Christmas Promise
A Christmas Odyssey
A Christmas Homecoming
A Christmas Garland
A Christmas Hope
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ANNE PERRY is the bestselling author of ten earlier holiday novels—A Christmas Journey, A Christmas Visitor, A Christmas Guest, A Christmas Secret, A Christmas Beginning, A Christmas Grace, A Christmas Promise, A Christmas Odyssey, A Christmas Homecoming, and A Christmas Garland—as well as the William Monk series and the Charlotte and Thomas Pitt series set in Victorian England and five World War I novels. She lives in Scotland.
www.anneperry.co.uk