Anne Perry - Belgrave Square

She was quite lost in this when the lawyer’s clerk returned and stood in front of her with rather more courtesy than previously.

“Mrs. Pitt? Mr. Carswell requested me to give you this.” And he held out an envelope for her.

“Thank you.” She took it, surprised to find her fingers clumsy and shaking a little. She waited until he was gone again, bustling away full of importance, before she pulled her gloves off and tore it open. She read:

Dear Mrs. Pitt,

I fear I can contribute very little to Miss Hilliard’s happiness, but I shall be pleased to meet you and hope you will be my guest for luncheon at midday. If you request a clerk to bring you to my chambers I shall escort you to a suitable establishment where we may dine. I request that you will be punctual, because as you may appreciate, my time is circumscribed by the necessities of the court.

Faithfully yours, Addison Carswell

She folded it and put it in her reticule. She had thought to carry a fob watch her father had given her many years ago, against the possibility of having to keep an exact appointment and not being easily within sight of a public clock.

At five minutes before twelve she sought a clerk and was conducted to Cars well’s chambers, and at noon precisely he emerged looking composed but extremely pale. He saw her immediately and his features set, his chin hardened and his mouth thinned into a straight line.

Charlotte was not surprised, although it was an unpleasant feeling. She had worded her request in such a way that he might well think she meant to blackmail him. And indeed if William Weems had done so before, then he could hardly be blamed for such a fear.

“Good day, Mrs. Pitt,” he said levelly. “I am obliged to you for being punctual. May I escort you to luncheon? There is an excellent chophouse ’round the corner where we may sit discreetly without being overheard, and they will serve us without delay.” He did not offer her his arm.

“Thank you, that would be very satisfactory,” she accepted, unreasonably annoyed by an assumption on his part which she had just admitted was quite fair. She walked out, head high, precisely in step with him.

The chophouse was as he had said, noisy, busy with people at almost every table, mostly men and all in dark and sober dress. Waiters passed nimbly, swinging trays on their shoulders and setting dishes and tankards down with flair. When Charlotte and Carswell were seated and Carswell had ordered for them both, he came to the point without the pretense of courtesies. She had no time to look around her any further, which would normally have been most interesting. She had never been in a chophouse before. She assumed the other tables were filled with lawyers and their clients all talking earnestly, heads bent.

“You mentioned Miss Hilliard, Mrs. Pitt,” he said coldly. “And that you had formed an affection for her. I am quite aware of what unkind gossip has been said of her, and it is not something I propose to discuss with you. I am extremely sorry it has happened.” His eyes were miserable but there was no evasion in them, no flinching from her. “But I know of nothing I can do to repair it. I am sure you are aware that denial would accomplish nothing.”

She felt a considerable pity for him, and no dislike. Even more urgent to her, she had a very real regard for Regina, and knew very well the situation of the other daughters, and their hopes of marriage, indeed their need for it. But she also felt for Fanny, who was being pushed into a position where she alone suffered.

She steeled herself and took the irretrievable step.

“I would not expect you to deny it easily, Mr. Carswell,” she said with a tiny smile. “It is a miserable thing to have people believe, especially since it cannot but hurt your wife and your daughters, and ruin Miss Hilliard in society-which I know is not everything. The circle of people who have heard the rumor is small enough, and there may be other alliances open to her, in time…”

She took a deep breath and went on. “And ugly as it is, it is far better than the truth.” She saw him pale, but his expression barely changed and his eyes never left hers. She knew from the icy hardness in them that he was now quite certain in his mind that she had come to extort money. The contempt in him could almost be felt across the white-clothed table and the knives and forks.

He remained silent.

She was about to continue when the waiter brought them their meals and set them down.

Carswell thanked him grimly and dismissed him.

“I am sure you have some point, Mrs. Pitt. I would be obliged if you would reach it.”

A flicker of anger moved in her.

“I know that Fanny is your daughter, Mr. Carswell. I do not expect you to tell the world so; it would ruin your-your present wife and your other daughters, and Fanny herself would never wish that. Which indeed you know, since she left all that she hoped for and retreated to her home in disgrace, rather than explain herself and tell anyone, even Herbert Fitzherbert.”

He was staring at her without blinking. At the table behind him a young man was waving a legal document in the air, its red seal catching the light, its ribbons flapping. A waiter passed by with two tankards of ale on a tray.

“What is it you want of me, Mrs. Pitt?” Carswell asked her between clenched teeth.

“I want you to consider telling Herbert Fitzherbert the truth,” she replied. “He loves Fanny, and is prepared to marry her in spite of the scandal, but she will not trust even him and defend herself. I find it very hard that he will always think her a woman of no virtue, and in time it may come to sour his regard for her and cause suspicion between them. He has forfeited his opportunity to Parliament; his love for her is of greater value to him. But I fear she will not tell him the truth herself, in order to protect you, and she will not marry him as long as he does not know it but believes her your mistress.”

She picked up her glass by the stem, and then put it down again.

“Also her brother deserves to know. Why should she endure his contempt as well? She will become quite isolated and believed immoral by those she cares for most, and all to protect you and your new family. Is that something you can live with happily, Mr. Carswell?”

His face was pink, his eyes wretched. He fought off the most horrible decision a moment longer by facing the lesser.

“And what is your intent, Mrs. Pitt? Why do you concern yourself with this? You have known Fanny only a very short time. I find it hard to believe your emotion is so engaged.”

“I am aware of what you suppose, Mr. Carswell, and given your connection with Weems it is not unreasonable.” She saw his face blanch and a look of incredulity come over it. Then slowly realization came to him. “Pitt-Mrs. Pitt? You cannot be…”

All the world of social differences was there in his unspoken words: the gulf between Charlotte as Emily’s sister, receiving society, dancing, dining, visiting the opera; and as the wife of Pitt, a policeman calling at people’s houses to ask about the murder of a usurer in the back streets of Clerkenwell.

She swallowed back the sharp defense that came leaping to her tongue. With icy dignity, still less now would she permit him to think she would stoop to blackmail.

“I am,” she agreed. “And yes my emotion is engaged on Fanny’s behalf. It seems someone’s needs to be. Yours is not.”

He flushed hotly.

“That is unfair, Mrs. Pitt! Surely you must have some idea what it would do to my present family if such a thing were to become known? They are totally innocent, just as innocent of any wrong as Fanny. I have four daughters and a son. Would you have them ruined for Fanny’s sake?” His voice shook a little and Charlotte realized with sudden pity how appallingly difficult it was for him to be telling such intimate details of his life to someone who was not only a stranger, but an unsympathetic one.