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‘Who have you decided to give this news to first?’ she asked, putting her Gladstone bag in the rack above the seat before he could reach up and do it for her. They had agreed to be prepared in case an overnight stay was necessary. He put his beside it, then waited for her to choose a seat next to the window, and facing the engine.
‘Sarah should be told first in respect for her being the elder child. Falthorne, the butler, is head of the household in all but name, but he would think it out of order for me to tell anyone other than Sarah first,’ he replied. If he had learned anything at all about Falthorne, it was his love of order. Daniel had learned from his mother that when life is in chaos, there is a certain comfort in order. Things don’t get lost, moved, or forgotten. One still needs to eat, to sleep, to have laundry done. The rhythm of housework, busy hands, can hold the world together when it seems to be falling apart. There had been a murder in the house – believed to be Arthur and Sarah’s mother. Their father was due to be hanged for murder less than a fortnight from now. Then Sarah and Arthur would be alone. The house woul
d have to be sold, and the servants scattered to find whatever new positions they could. The shadow of the scandal would follow them.
Daniel saw from Miriam’s expression that she understood as much.
He determined to speak on something else on the journey.
‘Where did you study?’ he asked.
‘Cambridge,’ she answered with a smile. ‘My professor said I had an insufficiency of humility and an overabundance of opinions. I admit, if I possessed any of the genius my school mistress had believed of me, it was for fending off inconvenient questions. It was more than all the rest of the students put together.’
He smiled. ‘I think I knew him.’
‘I haven’t even told you his name.’ Then she realised his humour and laughed. ‘I guess he gets around.’
‘Did you enjoy it? There’s a lot in Cambridge, other than a few tediously pompous professors.’
‘Oh, yes. It’s a lovely city. I loved exploring it. And I belonged to the amateur theatrical society.’ She stopped and stared at him ruefully. ‘Ridiculous, isn’t it! Not at all a suitable thing for a chemist to do.’
‘But perfectly suitable for human beings,’ he said with certainty. ‘Which is more important. If you cut out anything other than mathematics, you may know everything about how the world is made, but you’ve missed the purpose of it all. That’s the difference between the wise man and the fool. It’s not counting stars, or knowing what they’re made of, it’s actually seeing them, and caring.’
‘Are you sure you’re right to follow the law?’ She looked at him earnestly.
‘No. Not really. Sometimes I am. When I got Blackwell off, I was thrilled. Graves, I’m not so sure about. The exactness of the law says I must pay attention only to whether he is innocent or guilty of this count. I won’t punish him for this, if he’s only guilty of wanting to ruin most of the people I love, and turning Special Branch on its head.’
Her face reflected all his emotions. Now it was anxiety. ‘So, what are you going to do?’
‘I wish I were certain,’ he answered. ‘Just find out whose body it really is. If Graves killed her, whoever she is, I’d be perfectly happy to see him hanged, except that it may take a while because he’ll have to be tried for that person’s death, if Ebony is still alive. Maybe long enough to finish this damn book and publish it. I don’t know what I can do about that. Blackwell may have some idea.’
‘And your father?’
‘I wish he didn’t have to know.’
Daniel wished that questioning Sarah Graves could be avoided, but since it could not, he would rather do it himself than trust anyone else not to hurt her more than was absolutely unavoidable. Her mother was dead, so far as she knew, and it seemed inevitable that her father would be also. Her brother was brave and sensitive, and totally dependent on her.
Daniel chose to do it in the sitting room. It was not as formal as the withdrawing room, and as far as possible from the room in which she believed her mother had been killed. But whether it was Ebony, or not, certainly someone had been killed there, and almost worse than that, disfigured.
Miriam sat quietly, almost in the corner, and he knew she would not speak unless she judged it necessary.
He stood as Sarah came into the room. He could see by the way she held her head, and her stiff, straight shoulders, that she was afraid. The pallor of her face could have been grief, or emotional exhaustion. She barely glanced at Miriam.
‘Please sit down, Miss Graves.’ He gestured towards the chair opposite the one on which he had been sitting. ‘Miss fford Croft is here as a chaperone, so you do not need to have any of your own staff here, in case you wish to say something that you would rather keep private from them.’
She hesitated a moment, as if she might refuse. Then she obeyed, holding her hands in her lap, back still perfectly straight. No doubt she could walk with a book balanced on her head, and not let it fall. It was the classic exercise for a young lady’s deportment. He could remember Jemima doing it, under protest. But this was so far from anything Jemima had had to endure. How easy their lives were, compared to this!
Would it be kinder to be blunt? Not to stretch out the things he had to ask her, increasing her fear? How could he know the best approach? He knew nothing of her, except her obvious circumstances, and the fact that she sat opposite him and refused to avoid his glance.
He should not even be thinking of her feelings. He should be more practical, and perhaps show more courage. He should be looking for the most effective way to get her to tell him the truth.
‘Miss Graves, we looked at the body of your mother.’
Her eyes widened. ‘How? She is . . . buried!’
‘We dug her up . . . I’m sorry. She is not in her body any more. She is at peace, whole again . . . I think.’
For a moment, confusion was clear in her face. ‘You . . . think? Are you not sure of your own beliefs, Mr Pitt? Or are you questioning whether she was good enough . . . to go to any kind of heaven?’ Then there was nothing left in her eyes but anger.
