Anne Perry: Brunswick Gardens

The bishop made clicking noises of disgust with his teeth.

Isadora put her heel on his toe and trod hard. He yelped, but no one was listening to him.

“Tell him to go away,” Vita urged, indicating Pitt with a jerk of her elbow. “Dominic, you can do anything; you have the power. You are going to be the greatest leader of the church in this century.” Her eyes shone with eagerness, with pride. “You are going to restore it to the place it belongs, so everyone looks up to it, to the clergy, as they should do. The church is going to be the head and the heart of every community again. You’ll show people; you’ll make it so. Tell this stupid policeman to go away. Tell him why this has happened. It isn’t a crime. It is simply necessary.”

“It wasn’t necessary, Vita,” Dominic answered, opening his eyes and forcing himself to face her. “It was wrong. I love you only in the same way I love everybody, no more than that. I am going to marry Clarice, if she will have me.”

Vita stared at him. “Clarice?” she said, as if the word were meaningless to her. “You can’t. There is no need. We don’t have to pretend anymore. Anyway, it would be quite wrong. You couldn’t do that to her, when you love me. You’ve always loved me, ever since we first met.” Her voice was gaining confidence again. “I remember the way you looked at me, the very first day you were in the house. You knew even then that Ramsay was weak, that he had lost his faith and he was no good to lead the people anymore. I saw your strength even then… and you knew I believed in you. We understood each other. We-”

“No!” Dominic said firmly. “I liked you. That is a completely different thing. You were Ramsay’s wife, and to me you always will be. I am not in love with you. I never was. I am in love with Clarice.”

Slowly Vita’s face changed. The softness died out of it. The wide eyes narrowed and became hard and hot. Her lips drew back into a twist of hatred.

“You coward!” she spat out. “You weak, worthless coward! I killed for you! I endured all that danger, all that play-acting, all those stupid questions and answers, so you could fill your role in destiny, so we could be together! I thought up that brilliant plan and I put it into execution. I thought of everything! And look at you! Afraid to take it up! You are pathetic!” Then her face softened again, melting into smiles. “But I would forgive you, if…”

Dominic turned away, unable to bear any more. Clarice put her arms around him, and very close together they walked back into the body of the church.

Pitt looked at Cornwallis, who nodded, thin-lipped, touched with a terrible sadness.

Pitt held Vita harder. “Come with me, Mrs. Parmenter,” he said levelly. “There is no more to say. It is all over.”

She looked at Pitt as if she had only just remembered he was there, although he had held her all the time.

“We are leaving,” Pitt repeated. “You have no place here anymore.” He started to walk with her down the steps towards the street. Cornwallis passed him to fetch the carriage.

Charlotte looked for a moment at the doorway into which Dominic and Clarice had disappeared, then, smiling and curiously at peace, she followed after Pitt.

Q. Anne, why did you decide, when you first began writing the Charlotte and Thomas Pitt series, to set your novels in Victorian England?

A. I did not choose the Victorian period with intent. I had been writing nonmystery novels set in many periods, without success. My first mystery, and first book which sold, was The Cater Street Hangman. Believe me, nothing makes you love a period like acceptance!

Now I love it for its atmosphere, contrasts between wealth and poverty, what seems to be and what is, for its glamour and squalor, and for the fact that it is largely before the use of science in detection. It is also a mirror of our own time close enough to be valid, and far enough away to be bearable. I get immense pleasure from the manners which are so much subtler than ours, and therefore fun to write about. Romance can legitimately go on for ages.

Q. How much research have you had to do-in the past and on a continuing basis-to ensure that your novels are historically accurate? Do you enjoy the research?

A. To begin with I had to research a great deal. Now I hope I know the period well enough to write most of the book with only minor checking, except for whichever subject I have chosen that is unusual to that book. For example, photography will be featured in one that is planned, the workings of the Victorian theatre for the same book, 1890s spiritualism for another, and so on.

Q. Now that you have two long-running series-the Pitt mysteries as well as the more recent William Monk novels-you write two complete books a year. How do you organize your writing time?

A. Organizing my time? I love working. I usually begin around nine A.M., break for half an hour’s lunch, work again until five P.M. or six P.M., have supper, and often go back for an hour or three in the evening. Monday to Saturday. No one is driving me to this. I do it from choice.

I plan a book in considerable detail long before I start Chapter One, etc. I brainstorm with my assistant, who picks all the holes she can, and then we mend them (I hope). Usually a full single space, legal page per chapter-twelve or thirteen chapters. That may be done up to a year before I start. I like to have two or three in hand.

Q. Do you have a favorite character in your novels?

A. A favorite character? Whomever I am working on at the time. Of all of them, if I have to choose-possibly Great-aunt Vespasia.

Q. In the Monk series, the protagonist is plagued by a faulty memory-sometimes inopportunely faulty. Do you plan to have Monk fully regain his memory, or will he always be troubled by partial amnesia?

A. No, Monk is not going to regain all his memory. Two reasons: I believe it is medically unlikely, and I have far too much pleasure dealing him his past a card at a time to spoil it by dealing the cards all at once. Then I could not spring any surprises.

Q. Some of your novels are being adapted for television. Please tell us about that. And how do you feel about your creations being interpreted by flesh-and-blood actors?

A. I am delighted to say that The Cater Street Hangman has been filmed for TV, as a pilot for a series, we hope. I think they have done a superb job, everyone involved, but particularly the casting director, who could have taken the actors out of my imagination and given them flesh. The physical appearances are all exactly as I would have wished, but far more important, the spirit is there. I am totally delighted. It is a most extraordinary thrill to see what has been inside your head become real in front of you.

Q. You also write short fiction, notably a story in Ballantine’s Canine Crimes anthology. For you, does the writing process change when you turn to the shorter form?

A. I enjoy writing short stories, from the totally light, and I hope funny, stories like “Daisy and the Archaeologists” in Canine Crimes, through to the dark and tragic mystery, such as the one called “Heroes,” set in the trenches of World War One. Yes, the writing process has to be tighter, the plot cannot be fudged at all, and there is little time to set an atmosphere. But drama does not change, nor does dialogue or character-and perhaps not mystery either. You still need a crime, some detection, and an honest resolution.

Q. In your spare time, what writers do you read?

A. Whom do I read? I have just been rereading a little Dante, a lot of poetry, sometimes fantasy, and am about to start a book given me today about religious versus humanist ethics.