Anne Perry - Dorchester Terrace

“But in Thomas’s new position he will be expected to entertain people who are not necessarily your friends.” Emily raised her fair eyebrows. “There are certain social obligations with promotions, you know? Head of Special Branch is a great deal more than just a policeman, even a gifted one. You will have to get used to speaking easily to government ministers, ambassadors, and all kinds of other ambitious and useful people.”

“I doubt we would ever be able to afford a house fit to entertain people like that,” Charlotte said drily. “It’s a promotion, not an inheritance.”

Emily winced. “I didn’t realize you felt so badly about it. I’m sorry.”

Charlotte reined in her horse. “It?” she questioned.

Emily stopped too. “Money. Isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

“It’s what you’re talking about,” Charlotte corrected her. “I was talking about living in a house where I’m comfortable, rather than buying a bigger one that I don’t need and that is a strange place to me, without familiarity or memories. I’m not you, Emily, and I don’t want the same things.”

“Don’t be so pompous!” Emily snapped back. “This is really about Jack having to tell Thomas he couldn’t see Lord Tregarron, isn’t it?” Her tone was challenging, almost daring Charlotte to deny it.

“Well, if we’re speaking of pompous …” Charlotte began.

“It was not-”

“Really?” Charlotte cut across her. “Well, it seems you know far more about it than I do. But then Thomas’s work is secret. He can’t tell anyone, even me.” She urged her horse on, moving ahead of Emily. She hated quarreling, especially with someone she cared for so deeply. It left her feeling unhappy and oddly alone. But she would not let Jack’s sudden promotion go to Emily’s head, or Jack’s for that matter, and allow them to thoughtlessly make worse Pitt’s sense of being out of his depth. Perhaps she was being unnecessarily protective, but then, so was Emily.

She reined in her horse again and waited until Emily caught up with her. Without meeting Emily’s eyes she started again.

“I don’t want to move yet. It’s taking things for granted that haven’t happened for certain. I would have thought you, of all people, would understand that. Your social position is assured, and your financial one, but you’ve a long way to go before you can say the same politically.”

“Is that Thomas’s opinion?” Emily was not yet mollified.

Charlotte forced herself to laugh. “I have no idea. He didn’t mention it. Why? Do you think Jack has very little further to go? That would be a shame.”

Emily muttered under her breath, and Charlotte knew very well that what she said was distinctly impolite.

While Charlotte was riding in Hyde Park, Pitt was already in his office at Lisson Grove asking for all the recent information Special Branch had gathered about any dissident groups in Central or Eastern Europe, particularly within the vast Austro-Hungarian Empire. The empire stretched from Austria itself eastward to include Hungary; south into northern Italy and down the Balkan Peninsula, encompassing Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, and Romania; and north to Bohemia, Moravia, Slovakia, and parts of Poland and Ukraine. Within its borders, twelve different languages were spoken and several major religions were observed, including Roman Catholicism, Eastern Orthodoxy, and Islam. Additionally, there was a large number of Jews in prominent and highly influential positions in Vienna, a place where anti-Semitism was deep, ugly, and growing. Unrest of one sort or another was normal there.

Vienna might be the cradle of all sorts of new thoughts in politics, philosophy, medicine, music, and literature, but it was also a city of sporadic violence, with a shadow of unease, as if there was some doom just beyond the horizon, waiting for the moment when all the gaiety would end.

Pitt had requested to see Evan Blantyre, whom he had met at the recent musical evening. Evan’s knowledge of the Austro-Hungarian Empire was extensive, and he might be able to offer the information and assistance Lord Tregarron had declined to provide.

He was pleasantly surprised when Blantyre agreed to see him almost immediately. Less than an hour later, Pitt stood in a pleasant anteroom, which had paintings of the Austrian Tyrol on the walls. He was there only briefly before he was ushered into Blantyre’s office. This was a large, comfortable room with a fire burning in the hearth, and armchairs on either side of it. There were worn patches on the carpet, and the color was faded from age and sunlight. The desk was old, the wood gleaming like satin.

“Good morning, Commander,” Blantyre said with interest, holding out his hand.

“Good morning, sir,” Pitt replied, accepting the greeting. “I appreciate your taking the time to see me so quickly. It may prove to be nothing of importance, but I can’t let this matter go until I know for sure.”

“Quite right,” Blantyre said. “Although I must say from the little you told my secretary, it all seemed rather coincidental, no real reason to suspect that any foreign visitor is the focus of an attack, if indeed an attack is even being planned.” He indicated the chairs near the fire and they sat down opposite each other.

“It is probably nothing,” Pitt agreed. “But a lot of issues start out as a whisper, one coincidence, and then another too soon after it, people showing an unexplained interest in something that appears to be harmless, but then isn’t.”

Blantyre smiled ruefully, curiosity lighting his face. “Well, how the devil do you know which coincidences matter? Is there an intellectual formula for it, or is it instinct, a particular skill?” His eyes were steady and bright. “Or something only experience can teach you, and perhaps one or two very near misses?”

Pitt shrugged. “I’m tempted sometimes to think there’s a hell of a lot of luck in it, but I suppose to call it luck is just a different way of saying that it requires constant observation and the need to run down everything that strikes a jarring note.” He smiled. “And, as you say, one or two close shaves.”

Blantyre nodded. “In other words, paying attention to detail, and a lot of damned hard work. Tell me more about exactly what alarms you in these particular inquiries. Do you really think this is about some intended violence? Against whom, for God’s sake? And if Duke Alois really is the target, why here? It sounds unlikely to me, conspirators setting up an attack in a foreign country. It would require them to go into a place where they have no network of friends nor many sympathizers. Every man’s hand would be against them.”

“True,” Pitt conceded. “But they would also be unknown to the general public. Fewer people here to recognize or betray them. And there is the other possibility.”

Blantyre frowned. “What’s that?”

“That they don’t intend to escape. If they feel passionately enough about their cause, they may be prepared to sacrifice their own lives in the process.”

Blantyre looked down at the worn pattern of the carpet. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said grimly. “Of course, men do such things-and women too, I suppose. Patriots, misguided or not, come in all forms. Martyrs as well.” He looked up at Pitt again. “I still don’t find it very likely. That sort of great sacrifice isn’t something you offer in order to kill a nonentity. In sheer practical terms, the world doesn’t take enough notice.” He pulled his mouth into a bitter smile, and then let it fade. “Tell me exactly what you’ve found, and I’ll do all I can to learn if it’s part of a greater plot. God knows, the last thing we need is some Austro-Hungarian duke blown to bits on our front doorstep.”