Betrayal at Lisson Grove tp-26

by Anne Perry

  The thought was chilling, but he did not even question it.

  ‘And I am afraid the news is not good here. But you already know something of it.’

  ‘Only that Narraway is out of Lisson Grove,’ Pitt replied. ‘I have no idea why, or what happened.’

  ‘I know why,’ she sighed, and he saw the sadness in her eyes. She looked pale, and tired. ‘He has been charged with the embezzlement of a considerable amount of money, which-’

  ‘What?’ It was absurd. Ordinarily he would not have dreamed of interrupting her — it was a break of courtesy unimaginable to him — but the disbelief was too urgent to remain concealed.

  A flicker of amusement sparkled in her eyes, and vanished as quickly. ‘I am aware of the absurdity, Thomas. Victor has several faults, but petty theft is not among them.’

  ‘You said a large amount.’

  ‘Large to steal. It cost a man’s life because he did not have it. But if Victor were to steal, it would be the crown jewels, or something really worth the price of his position in Special Branch. I doubt anything short of the Queen’s crown would be sufficient for him. Someone engineered this very astutely. I have my ideas as to who it may have been, but they are no more than ideas, insubstantial and possibly quite mistaken.’

  ‘Where is Narraway?’

  ‘In Ireland,’ she told him.

  ‘In prison?’ he asked. ‘And why Ireland?’ He must find out. He had expected him to be in London.

  ‘Not in prison so far as I know, but I have not heard. He went of his own will, because he believes that whoever was the author of his misfortune is Irish, and the answer to that person’s identity is to be found there.’ She bit her lip very slightly. For her it was a gesture of anxiety so deep he could not recall having seen her do it before.

  ‘Aunt Vespasia?’ He leaned forward a little.

  ‘He believed it personal,’ she continued. ‘An act of revenge for an old injury. At the time I thought he might have been correct, although it was a long time to wait for such perceived justice, and the Irish have never been noted for their patience, especially for revenge. I assumed some new circumstance must have made it possible. .’

  ‘You say “assumed”-were you wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘After what you have told me of your experience in France, and of this man Gower, who was your assistant, and of whom neither you nor anyone else in Special Branch appeared to have any suspicions, I think Victor was mistaken,’ she said gravely. ‘I fear this trumped-up allegation may have had nothing to do with personal revenge, but have been a means of removing him from command of the situation in London, and replacing him with either someone of far less competence or — very much worse — of sympathy with the socialist cause. It looks as if you were removed to France for the same reason.’

  Pitt smiled with a bitter humour. ‘I am not of Narraway’s experience or power,’ he told her honestly. ‘I am not worth their trouble to remove.’

  ‘You are too modest, my dear.’ She regarded him with amused affection. ‘Surely you would have fought for Victor. I think you are fond of him, but even if I am wrong in that, you owe him a great loyalty. He took you into Special Branch when the Metropolitan Police dismissed you, and you had too many enemies to return there. He took some risk doing so, and made more enemies of his own. It is not appreciated in certain circles. Most of those men are gone now, but at the time it was a dangerous act. You have more than repaid him with your ability, but you can now repay the courage. I do not imagine you think differently.’

  Her eyes were steady on his. ‘Added to which, you have enemies in Special Branch yourself, because of the favour he showed you, and your somewhat rapid rise. With Victor gone, you will be very fortunate indeed if you survive him for long. Even if you do, you will be forever watching over your shoulder and waiting for the unseen blow. If you do not know that, you are far more naive than I think you.’

  ‘The loyalty would have been enough,’ he told her. ‘But, yes, of course I am aware that without Narraway’s protection I won’t last long.’

  Her voice was very gentle. ‘My dear, it is imperative, for many reasons, that we do what we can to clear Victor’s name. I am glad you see it so clearly.’

  He felt a sudden chill, a warning.

  She inclined her head in assent. ‘Then you will understand why Charlotte has gone to Ireland with Victor to help him in any way she can. He will find it hard enough on his own. She may be his eyes and ears in places he is unable to go himself.’

  For a moment Pitt did not even understand, as if her words were half in a foreign language. The key words were plain enough — Charlotte, Narraway and Ireland — but the whole of it made no sense.

  ‘Charlotte’s gone to Ireland?’ he repeated. ‘She can’t have! What on earth could she do? She doesn’t know Ireland and she certainly doesn’t know anything about Narraway’s past, his old cases, or anyone else in Special Branch.’ He hesitated to tell her she had misunderstood. It sounded so rude, but it was the only explanation.

  ‘Thomas,’ Vespasia said gravely, ‘the situation is very serious. Victor is helpless. He is closed out of his office and all access to any assistance from Special Branch. We know that at least one person there, highly placed, is a thief and a traitor. We do not know who it is. Charles Austwick is in charge-’

  ‘Austwick?’

  ‘Yes. You see how serious it is? Do you imagine that without your help Austwick will find the traitor? Apparently none of you, including Victor, were aware of Gower’s treason. Who else would betray you? Charlotte is at least in part aware of the danger, including the danger to you personally. She went with Victor partly out of loyalty to him, but mostly to save his career because she is very sharply aware that yours depends upon it also. And another element, which you may not yet have had time to consider: if Victor can be made to appear guilty of theft, how difficult would it be for the same people to make you appear guilty with him?’

  It was a nightmare again: frightening, irrational. Pitt was exhausted, aching with the pain of disillusion and the horror of his own violence. His body was bruised and so tired he could sleep sitting in this comfortable chair, if only he could relax long enough. And yet fear knotted the muscles in his back, his shoulders and his neck, and his head throbbed. This last piece of news made his whole situation worse. He struggled to make sense of it.

  ‘Where is she? Is she safe?’ Safe was a stupid word to use if she was in Ireland with Narraway.

  ‘Thomas, Victor is out there with her. He won’t let any harm come to her if he can prevent it,’ Vespasia said softly.

  Pitt knew Narraway was in love with Charlotte, but he did not want to hear it. ‘If he cared, he wouldn’t have-’ he began.

  ‘Allowed her to go?’ she finished for him. ‘Thomas, she has gone in order to honour her friendship and loyalty, and above all to protect her husband’s career, and therefore the family’s means of survival. What do you imagine he could have said or done that would have stopped her?’

  ‘Not told her he was going in the first place!’ he snapped.

  ‘Really?’ Vespasia raised her silver eyebrows. ‘And left her wondering why you did not come home after chasing your informant through the streets? Not that night, or for days afterwards? She might have gone to Lisson Grove and asked, by which time she would be frantic with fear. And she would have been met with the news that Narraway was gone and you were nowhere to be found, and there was no one in Lisson Grove to help or support you. Do you feel that would have been preferable?’

  ‘No. .’ He felt foolish — panicky. What should he do? He wanted to go immediately to Ireland and make sure Charlotte was safe, but even an instant’s reflection told him that might do at least as much harm as good. And anyway, the heart of the problem was not there but in London. He had no idea what Narraway’s old case was; there were so many. And it now looked as if that were a red herring anyway. If, however, it was what had lured Narraway to Ireland, and Pitt to France, by reacting thou
ghtlessly he would be playing directly into the conspirators’ hands. It was an irresponsible, hot-headed thing even to think of.

  ‘I’ll go home and see Daniel and Jemima,’ he said more calmly. ‘If they have had a week of Mrs Waterman, they may be feeling pretty desperate. She is not an easy woman. I must speak to Charlotte about that when she gets home.’

  ‘You don’t need to concern yourself-’ Vespasia began.

  ‘You don’t know the woman-’ he started.

  ‘She is irrelevant,’ Vespasia told him. ‘She left.’

  ‘What? Then-’

  Vespasia raised her hand. ‘That is the other thing I was going to tell you. She has been replaced by a new maid, on the recommendation of Gracie. She seems a very competent girl, and Gracie looks in on them every day. I have been in touch with Gracie. All is well. In fact, I must say that I rather like the sound of young Minnie Maude. She has character.’

  Pitt was dizzy. Everything seemed to be shifting. The moment he looked at it, it changed, as if someone had struck the kaleidoscope and all the pieces had shattered and reformed in a different pattern.

  ‘Minnie Maude?’ he said stumblingly. ‘For God’s sake, how old is she?’ To him, Gracie herself was little more than a child. His own intelligence told him that was because he had known her since she was thirteen, and she had not grown much taller than she was then. He knew her ability and her courage through experience. Who was this Minnie Maude left alone in charge of his children? She could be anyone!

  ‘About twenty,’ Vespasia replied. ‘Gracie has known her since she was eight. She has courage and sense. There is nothing to concern yourself about, Thomas. As I said, I kept a discreet eye on the girl via Gracie and everything was satisfactory. Perhaps just as importantly, both Daniel and Jemima like her. Do you imagine I would allow the situation to remain if that were not so?’

  Now he felt clumsy and deeply ungracious. ‘No.’ He knew an apology was appropriate. His fear had made him foolish, and rude. ‘Of course not. I’m sorry. I. .’ He hunted for words.

  She smiled. It was a sudden, beautiful gesture that lit her face and restored everything of the beauty that had made her famous. ‘I would think less of you were you to take it for granted,’ she said. ‘Now, before you leave, would you like tea? And are you hungry? If you are I shall have whatever you care for prepared. In the meantime we need to discuss what is to be done next. It is now up to you to address the real issue behind all this ploy and counterploy by whoever is the traitor at Lisson Grove.’

  Her words were suddenly and hideously sobering. How like Vespasia to discuss the fate of revolution, murder, and treason in high places over tea and a plate of sandwiches in the withdrawing room. It restored a certain sanity to the world. At least something was as it should be.

  Pitt drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, steadying himself. ‘Thank you. I should very much like a good cup of tea. The prison in Shoreham had only the most moderate amenities. And a sandwich would be excellent.’

  Pitt arrived home at Keppel Street in the early afternoon. Both Daniel and Jemima were still at school. He knocked on the door, rather than use his key and startle this Minnie Maude in whom Vespasia seemed to have so much confidence.

  He stood on the step shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his mind racing over what changes he might find: what small things uncared for, changed so it was no longer the home he was used to, and which he realised he loved fiercely, exactly as it was. Except, of course, Charlotte should be there. Without her, nothing was more than a shell.

  The door opened and a young woman stood just inside, her expression guarded.

  ‘Yes, sir?’ She said it politely, but stood squarely blocking the way in. ‘Can I ’elp yer?’ She was not pretty but she had beautiful hair: thick and curling and of a rich, bright colour. And she had the freckles on her face that so often went with such vividness. She was far taller than Gracie, but slender. However, she had the same direct, almost defiant gaze.

  ‘Are you Minnie Maude?’ he asked.

  ‘Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but that in’t yer business,’ she replied. ‘If yer want the master, yer gimme a card, an’ I’ll ask ’im to call on yer.’

  He could not help smiling. ‘I’ll give you a card, by all means.’ He fished for one in his pocket and passed it to her, then wondered if she could read. He had become used to Gracie reading, since Charlotte had taught her.

  Minnie Maude looked at the card, then up at him, then at the card again.

  He smiled at her.

  The blush spread up her cheeks in a hot tide. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she stumbled over the words. ‘I din’t know yer.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said quickly. ‘You shouldn’t allow anyone in unless you know who they are, and not just because they say so.’

  She stood back, allowing him to pass. He went into the familiar hallway, and immediately smelled the lavender floor polish. The hall mirror was clean, the surfaces free of dust. Jemima’s shoes were placed neatly side by side under the coat stand.

  He walked down to the kitchen and looked around. Everything was as it should be: blue-and-white ringed plates on the Welsh dresser, copper pans on the wall, kitchen table scrubbed, the stove burning warm but not over-hot. He could smell newly baked bread and the clean, comfortable aroma of fresh laundry hanging from the airing rail up near the ceiling. He was home again. There was nothing wrong, except that his family was not there. But he knew where Charlotte was, and the children were at school.

  ‘Would you like a cup o’ tea, sir?’ Minnie Maude asked in an uncertain voice.

  He did not really need one so soon after leaving Vespasia’s, but he felt she would like to do something familiar and useful.

  ‘Thank you,’ he accepted. He had been obliged to buy several necessities for the days he had been in France, including the case in which he now carried them. ‘I have a little laundry in my bag, but I don’t know whether I shall be home for dinner or not. I’m sorry. If I am, something cold to eat will do very well.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Would you like some cold mutton an’ ’ot bubble and squeak? That’s wot Daniel an’ Jemima’ll be’avin’, as it’s wot they like. ’Ceptin’ they like eggs wif it.’

  ‘Eggs will be excellent, thank you.’ He meant it. It sounded familiar, comfortable and very good.

  Vespasia had warned Pitt not to go to Lisson Grove, but he had no choice, and at least now he was far more aware of the situation. He could not learn what was really planned, rather than the bluff that had taken him to France and kept him there so long. He was still both angry and embarrassed by the ease with which he had been duped.

  Also he could do nothing to help Narraway — and now, obviously, Charlotte as well — without information he could learn only there.

  And of course there was the question of explaining what had happened to Gower. He had no idea how badly he had been disfigured by the fall from the train, but every effort would be made to identify him, and the police were bound to succeed sooner or later. Indeed, when he reached Lisson Grove he might find that it had already happened.

  What should his story be? How much of the truth could he tell without losing every advantage of surprise that he had? He did not know who his enemies were, but they certainly knew him. His instinct was to affect as much ignorance as possible. The less they considered him a worthwhile opponent, the less likely they were to eliminate him. It would be a manner of camouflage, at least for a while.

  He should be open and honest about the attack on the train. It was a matter of record with the police. But it would be easy enough — highly believable, in fact — to claim that he had no idea who the man was; remove every thought that it was personal.

  He had last seen Gower in St Malo, when they agreed that Pitt should come home to see what Lisson Grove knew of any conspiracy, and that Gower should remain in France and watch Frobisher and Wrexham, and anyone else of interest. Naturally, Pitt would know nothing of Narraway’s disgrace, and be
thoroughly shocked.

  He arrived just before four o’clock. He went in through the door, past the man on duty just inside, and asked to see Narraway.

  He was told to wait, as he had expected, but it was a surprisingly short time before Charles Austwick himself came down and conducted Pitt up to what used to be Narraway’s office. Pitt noticed immediately that all signs of Narraway were gone: his pictures; the photograph of his mother, which used to sit on top of the bookcase; the few personal books of poetry and memoirs; the engraved brass bowl from his time in North Africa.

  He stared at Austwick, allowing his sense of loss to show in his face, hoping Austwick would see it as confusion.

  ‘Sit down, Pitt.’ Austwick waved him to the chair opposite the desk. ‘Of course you’re wondering what the devil’s going on. I’m afraid I have some shocking news for you.’

  Pitt forced himself to look alarmed, as if his imagination were racing. ‘Something has happened to Mr Narraway? Is he hurt? Ill?’

  ‘I’m afraid in some ways it is worse than that,’ Austwick said sombrely. ‘Narraway appears to have stolen a rather large amount of money, and — when faced with it — he disappeared. We believe he has gone to Ireland. Obviously he has been dismissed from the service, and — at least for the time being — I have replaced him. I am sure that is temporary, but until further notice, you will report to me. I’m sorry. It must be a great blow to you, indeed it is to all of us. I don’t think anyone imagined Narraway, of all people, would give in to that kind of temptation.’

  Pitt’s mind raced. How should he respond? He had thought it was all worked out in his mind, but sitting here in Narraway’s office, subtly but so completely changed, he was uncertain again. Was Austwick the traitor? If so, then he was a far cleverer man than Pitt had thought. But Pitt had had no idea that there was a traitor at all, and he had trusted Gower. What was his judgement worth?

  ‘I can see that you’re stunned,’ Austwick said patiently. ‘We’ve had a little while to get used to the idea. We knew almost as soon as you had gone. By the way, where is Gower?’