Free Betrayal at Lisson Grove by Anne Perry Page B

needle clicked with a light, quick sound against her thimble. Jemima was thirteen and growing tall very quickly. One could see the young woman in her that she would shortly become. Daniel was nearly three years younger, and desperate to catch up.
    Charlotte smiled as she thought of Gracie, so proud in her white wedding gown, walking down the aisle on Pitt’s arm as he gave her away. Tellman had been desperately nervous waiting at the altar, then so happy he couldn’t control the smile on his face. He must have thought that day would never come.
    But Charlotte missed Gracie’s cheerfulness, her optimism, her total candour, and her courage. Gracie never admitted to being beaten in anything. Her replacement, Mrs Waterman, was middle-aged and dour as a walk in the sleet. She was a decent woman, honest as the day, kept everything immaculately clean, but she seemed to be content only if she was miserable. Perhaps in time she would gain confidence and feel better. It was sincerely to be hoped.
    Charlotte did not hear the doorbell ring and was startled when Mrs Waterman knocked on the parlour door. The older woman immediately came in, her face pinched with displeasure.
    ‘There’s a gentleman called, ma’am. Shall I tell him that Mr Pitt is not at home?’
    Charlotte was startled, and her first thought was to agree to the polite fiction. Then her curiosity intruded. Surely at this hour it must be someone she knew?
    ‘Who is it, Mrs Waterman?’
    ‘A very dark gentleman, ma’am. Says his name is Narraway,’ Mrs Waterman replied, lowering her voice, although Charlotte could not tell if it were in disgust, or confidentiality. She thought the former.
    ‘Show him in,’ she said quickly, putting the mending out of sight on a chair behind the couch. Without thinking, she straightened her skirt and made sure she had no badly straying hair poking out of her rather loose coiffure. Her hair, which was a rich dark mahogany colour, slithered very easily out of control. As the pins dug into her head during the day, she was apt to remove them, with predictable results.
    Mrs Waterman hesitated.
    ‘Show him in, please,’ Charlotte repeated, a trifle more briskly.
    ‘I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,’ Mrs Waterman said with a slight twist of her mouth that was definitely not a smile. She withdrew, and a moment later Narraway came in. When Charlotte had seen him two days ago he had looked tired and a little concerned, but that was not unusual. This evening he was haggard, his lean face hollow-eyed, his skin almost without colour.
    Charlotte felt a terrible fear paralyse her, robbing her of breath. He had come to tell her terrible news of Pitt; even in her own mind she could not think the words.
    ‘I’m sorry to disturb you so late,’ he said. His voice was almost normal, but she heard in its slight tremor the effort that it cost him. He stood in front of her. His eyes were so dark they were black in the lamplight, but curiously she could read the expression in them perfectly. He was hurt, and there was an emptiness inside him that had not been there two days ago.
    He must have read her fear. How could he not? It filled the room.
    He smiled thinly. ‘I have not heard from Thomas again, but there is no reason to believe he is other than in excellent health, and probably having better weather than we have,’ he said gently. ‘Although I dare say he finds it tedious hanging about the streets watching people, while trying to look as if he is on holiday.’
    She swallowed, her mouth dry, relief making her dizzy. ‘Then what is it?’
    A ghost of amusement lit his eyes for an instant, then vanished. ‘Oh dear, am I so obvious?’
    It was more candid than he had ever been with her before, almost as if they knew each other well. She was surprised, and yet it did not feel unnatural.
    ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I’m afraid you look dreadful. Can I get you something? Tea, or whisky? That is, if we have any. Now that I’ve offered