Paragon Walk (8 page)

The nostrils flared on Selena’s sharp little nose.

“I would not have thought any comfort possible after one’s sister-in-law has been violated practically on one’s doorstep and has staggered in to die literally in one’s arms.” There was an unspecified criticism of Emily in her tone. “I think I should retire altogether if such a thing happened to me. I might even become quite deranged.” She said it very certainly, as if she were in no doubt that such a thing had already happened to Jessamyn.

“Good gracious!” Emily affected horror. “Surely you don’t imagine it will happen again, do you? I didn’t even know you had a sister-in-law.”

“I don’t!” Selena snapped. “I was merely saying how I sympathize with poor Jessamyn, and that we must not expect too much of her. We must be understanding if she seems a little odd—at least I am sure I shall be.”

“I’m sure you will, my dear.” Emily leaned forward, her voice cooing. “I’m sure you would never intentionally be unkind to anyone.”

Charlotte wondered if Emily were not giving her credit for rather many “accidents.”

“It must be very difficult to know what to say,” Charlotte suggested. “I should not know whether avoiding the subject might seem as if I were indifferent to her loss, or then on the other hand discussing it might appear like curiosity, which would be so vulgar.”

Selena’s face hardened, taking the inference perfectly.

“How very frank of you,” she said with wide-eyed surprise, as if she had discovered something alive in the salad. “Are you always so—candid—about your thoughts, Mrs. Pitt?”

“I’m afraid so. It is my greatest social disadvantage.” Now let her find a civil answer to that!

“Oh! Well, I dare say it cannot be too serious,” Selena replied cooly. “Your sister does not appear even to be aware of it.”

“I am inured to it.” Emily smiled dazzlingly at her. “I have suffered disaster upon disaster. Now I only bring her to call upon friends I know I can trust.” She met Selena’s brown eyes squarely.

Charlotte nearly choked, trying to maintain a sober face. Selena was outmaneuvered, and she knew it.

“How kind,” she murmured pointlessly. She took the tray from the maid. “Do have some sherbet.”

There was a natural silence after this for a little while, as they dipped their spoons into the cool delicacy. Charlotte wanted to use the opportunity to learn something more about the people, perhaps something that Pitt, as an obvious policeman, could not observe, but all the questions in her head were too clumsy. And she had not decided precisely what she needed to know. She sat with the sherbet dish in her hand and stared at the roses on the far wall. It reminded her a little of Cater Street and her parents’ home, only this was grander, lusher. It seemed such an unlikely place for a sordid crime like rape. Embezzlement or fraud she could have understood, or of course burglary. But did men who lived in houses like these ever rape anyone? Surely no matter how eccentric their tastes, or even perverted—she had heard that there were such things—men from Paragon Walk could afford to pay to indulge them. And there were always people who catered, everywhere, from the teeming rookeries to the expensive brothels, even boys and children.

Unless, of course, some particular woman was tormenting them, teasing, and flaunting herself. But from everyone’s descriptions, Fanny Nash had been anything but a flirt—in fact, decidedly gauche. Thomas had said Jessamyn made as much a point of it as was only just short of unkindness, and Emily had borne her out.

She was still thinking about it, convincing herself it had been some drunken coachman from the Dilbridges’ party and nothing to touch Emily, when she was distracted by voices across the lawn. She turned to see two elderly ladies, dressed in identical turquoise muslin and lace, although the styles were different, as suited their vastly different figures. One was tall and gaunt, flat-chested, the other small and rotund with a high, overstuffed bosom and plump little hands and feet.

“Miss Lucinda Horbury,” Selena introduced the small one, “and Miss Laetitia Horbury.” She turned to the taller. “I am sure you have not met Lady Ashworth’s sister, Mrs. Pitt.”

Greetings were exchanged with elaborately concealed curiosity, and more sherbet was brought. When the maid had left, Miss Lucinda turned to Charlotte.

“My dear Mrs. Pitt, how good of you to call. Of course you have come to comfort poor Emily after the dreadful happening! Isn’t it too appalling?”

Charlotte made polite noises, scrambling to think of something useful to ask, but Miss Lucinda did not really require a reply.

“I really don’t know what things are coming to!” she went on, warming to the subject. “I’m sure when I was young such things never occurred in decent society. Although, of course—” she glanced at her sister “—we did have those among us whose morals were not without fault!”

“Indeed?” Miss Laetitia’s faint eyebrows rose. “I don’t recall that I knew any, but perhaps you had a wider circle than I?”

Miss Lucinda’s plump face tightened, but she ignored the remark, lifting her shoulder slightly and looking toward Charlotte.

“I expect you have heard all about it, Mrs. Pitt? Poor dear Fanny Nash was vilely assaulted and then stabbed to death. We are all quite shattered! The Nashes have lived in the Walk for years, I dare say for generations, a very good family, indeed. I was talking to Mr. Afton, that’s the eldest of the brothers, you know, only yesterday. He has such dignity, don’t you think?” She flushed and looked at Selena, then Emily, and returned to Charlotte. “He is such a sober man,” she continued. “One can hardly imagine his having a sister who would meet with such an end. Of course, Mr. Diggory is a good deal more—more liberal—” she pronounced the word carefully “—in his tastes. But I always say, there are things a man may acceptably do, even if they are not very pleasant, which would be quite unthinkable in a woman—even of the loosest order.” Again she lifted her shoulder a little and glanced momentarily at her sister.

“Are you saying that Fanny somehow invited her attack?” Charlotte asked frankly. She felt the ripple of amazement in the others and ignored it, keeping her eyes on Miss Lucinda’s pink face.

Miss Lucinda sniffed.

“Well, really, Mrs. Pitt, one would hardly expect such a nature of thing to happen to a woman who was—chaste! She would not allow herself to be put in such a circumstance. I am sure that you have never been molested! And neither have any of us!”

“Perhaps that is no more than our good fortune?” Charlotte suggested, then added, lest she embarrass Emily too much, “If he were a madman, he might imagine all sorts of things that were entirely false, might he not, utterly without reason?”

“I have no acquaintance with madmen,” Miss Lucinda said fiercely.

Charlotte smiled. “Nor I with rapists, Miss Horbury. Everything I say is only a surmise.”

Miss Laetitia flashed her a smile so quick it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared.

Miss Lucinda sniffed harder. “Naturally, Mrs. Pitt. I hope you did not imagine for a moment that anything I said was from any kind of personal knowledge! I assure you, I was no more than sympathizing with poor Mr. Nash—to have such a disgrace within his family.”

“Disgrace!” Charlotte was too angry even to try to control her tongue. “I see it as a tragedy, Miss Horbury, a terror, if you like, but hardly a disgrace.”

“Well!” Miss Lucinda bridled. “Well, really—”

“Is that what Mr. Nash said?” Charlotte pressed, ignoring a sharp nudge from Emily’s boot. “Did he say it was a disgrace?”

“Really, I do not recall his words, but he was most certainly aware of the—the obscenity of it!” She shuddered and snorted down her nose. “I am quite terrified at the mere thought myself. I believe, Mrs. Pitt, if you lived in the Walk, you would feel as we do. Why, our maid, poor child, fainted clean away this morning, when the next door bootboy spoke to her. That’s another three of our best cups gone!”

“Perhaps you could reassure her that the man is probably miles away from her now?” Charlotte suggested. “After all, with the police investigating and everyone looking for him, this is the last place he would be likely to remain.”

“Oh, one must not lie, Mrs. Pitt, even to servants,” Miss Lucinda said sharply.

“I don’t see why not?” Miss Laetitia put in with mildness. “If it is for their good.”

“I always said you had no sense of morals!” Miss Lucinda glared at her sister. “Who can say where the creature is now? I am sure Mrs. Pitt cannot! He is obviously possessed by uncontrollable passions, abnormal hungers too dreadful for a decent woman to contemplate.”

Charlotte was tempted to point out that Miss Lucinda had done little else but contemplate them since she had arrived, and it was only sensibility for Emily that prevented her.

Selena shivered.

“Perhaps he is some depraved creature from the under-world, excited by women of quality, satins and laces, cleanliness?” she said to no one in particular.

“Or perhaps he lives here in the Walk, and naturally chooses his own to prey upon—who else?” It was a gentle, light voice, but distinctly masculine.

They all whirled round as one, to see Fulbert Nash only two yards from them on the grass, a dish of sherbet in his hand.

“Good afternoon, Selena, Lady Ashworth, Miss Lucinda, Miss Laetitia.” He looked at Charlotte with raised eyebrows.

“My sister, Mrs. Pitt,” Emily said tightly. “And that is an appalling thing to say, Mr. Nash!”

“It is an appalling crime, ma’am. And life can be appalling, have you not observed?”

“Not, mine, Mr. Nash!”

“How charming of you,” he sat down opposite them.

Emily blinked. “Charming?”

“That is one of the most restful qualities of women,” he replied. “The ability to see only what is pleasant. It makes them so comfortable to be with. Don’t you think so, Mrs. Pitt?”

“I should think it would make for extreme insecurity,” Charlotte replied with candor. “One would never know whether one was dealing with the truth or not. Personally I should be forever wondering what it was I did not know.”

“And so, like Pandora, you would open the box and let disaster loose upon the world.” He looked over the sherbet at her. He had very fine hands. “How unwise of you. There are so many things it is safer not to know. We all have our secrets.” His eyes flickered round the small group. “Even in Paragon Walk. ‘If any man says he is without sin, he deceives himself.’ You didn’t expect to hear me quote from the Good Book, did you, Lady Ashworth? If you stroll along the Walk, Mrs. Pitt, your naked eye will see perfect houses, stone upon stone, but your spiritual eye, if you have one, will see a row of whited sepulchers. Is that not so, Selena?”

Before Selena could reply, there was a slight clatter as a maid jiggled yet more sherbet on her tray, and they turned to see a most beautiful woman coming across the grass, seeming almost to gloat as the faint, warm air moved the white and water-green silk of her dress. Selena’s face hardened.

“Jessamyn, how charming to see you. I had not expected you to have such fortitude to be about. How I admire you, my dear. Do join us and meet Mrs. Pitt, Emily’s sister from—?” She lifted her eyebrows, but no one answered her. There were brief acknowledgements. “What an attractive gown,” Selena went on, looking at Jessamyn again. “Only you could get away with wearing such a—an anaemic color. On me I swear it would look quite disastrous, so, so washed out!”

Charlotte turned to Jessamyn and observed from her expression that she understood Selena’s meaning perfectly. Her composure was exquisite.

“Don’t be depressed, my dear Selena. We cannot all wear the same things, but I’m sure there must be some colors which will suit you excellently.” She looked at the gorgeous gown Selena was wearing, lavender appliqued with plum-pink lace. “Not that, maybe,” she said slowly. “Had you thought of something a little cooler, perhaps blue? So flattering to the higher complexion in this trying weather.”

Selena was furious. Her eyes spat something that looked as deep as hatred. Charlotte was surprised and a little taken aback to see it.

“We go to too many of the same places,” Selena said between her teeth. “And I should dislike above all things to be thought to ape your tastes—in anything. One should at all costs be original, do you not agree, Mrs. Pitt?” She turned to Charlotte.

Charlotte, acutely conscious of Emily’s made-over dress, full of pins, could not summon a reply. She was still shaken by the hatred she had seen, and Fulbert Nash’s ugly remark about whited sepulchers.

Oddly, it was Fulbert who rescued her.

“Up to a point,” he said casually. “Originality can so easily become outlandish, and one can end up a positive eccentric. Don’t you think so, Miss Lucinda?”

Miss Lucinda snorted and declined to reply.

Emily and Charlotte excused themselves shortly afterward, and, as Emily obviously did not feel like making any further calls, they went home.

“What an extraordinary man Fulbert Nash is,” Charlotte commented as they climbed the stairs. “Whatever did he mean about ‘whited sepulchers’?”

“How should I know?” Emily snapped. “Perhaps he has a guilty conscience.”

“Over what? Fanny?”

“I’ve no idea. He is a thoroughly horrible person. All the Nashes are, except Diggory. Afton is perfectly beastly. And whenever people are horrible themselves, they tend to think everyone else is too.”

Charlotte could not leave well enough alone.

“Do you think he really does know something about all the people in the Walk? Didn’t Miss Lucinda say the Nashes had lived here for generations?”

“She’s a silly old gossip!” Emily crossed the landing and went into her dressing room. She took Charlotte’s old muslin dress off its hanger. “You should have more sense than to listen to her.”

Charlotte began searching for the pins in the plum silk, taking them out slowly.

“But if the Nashes have lived here for years, then maybe Mr. Nash does know a lot about everyone. People do, when they live close to each other, and they remember.”

“Well, he doesn’t know anything about me! Because there isn’t anything to know!”

At last Charlotte was silent. The real fear was out. Of course Mr. Nash did not know anything about Emily, but then no one would suspect Emily of rape and murder. But what did he know about George? George had lived here every summer of his life.