Free Paragon Walk by Anne Perry Page A

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