He was delighted when he could acceptably excuse himself and go to look for Tellman, who would be curt and still ruffled by his situation, by the house and its wealth, by the fact that four-fifths of the people in it were servants, but Pitt would not have to defer to his feelings. He could be blunt.
He was followed from the room almost immediately by Jack, and he stopped until Jack drew level with him at the foot of the stairs.
Jack pulled a slight face and smiled at him ruefully. He looked tired. Standing close to him now as Pitt was, he could see the fine lines about Jack’s eyes and mouth. He was not the same elegantly fashionable young man with whom Emily had fallen in love, and whose easy charm had rather frightened her, fearing him too shallow. His eyes were just as beautiful, his lashes as long and dark, but there was a substance to him that had been lacking before. Earlier in his life he had had no money, only a silken tongue, a quick wit, and the ability to flatter with sincerity and to entertain without ever appearing to have to try. He had moved from one home to another, always a welcome guest. He had made it his business to be liked, and taken no responsibility.
Now he had Ashworth Hall to worry about, a seat in Parliament, and far deeper than that, a standard he had set himself to live up to. He was discovering the exact nature of its weight this weekend, and Pitt had not heard him complain once. He had accepted the burden of it with unobtrusive grace. If it frightened him he gave no sign, except now, as Pitt met his eyes, there was a shadow in their depths, something he was hiding even from himself.
“My collar’s too high,” Jack said with self-mockery. He ran his finger around inside it, pulling it away from his throat. “Feels as if it’s strangling me.”
“Is it as bad in conference as it is around the meal table?” Pitt asked.
Jack hesitated and then shrugged. “Yes. You need the patience of Job even to bring them to the point where they will discuss anything that actually matters. I don’t know what Greville thought could be accomplished by this. Every time I think I have them to the brink of some kind of agreement, one of them will change direction and it all falls apart again.” He put his hand on the newel post and leaned a little against it. “I never realized the power of old hatreds until now, how deep they run. They are in the blood and the bone of these people. It is part of who they are, as if they have to cling to the old feuds or they would lose part of their identity. What do I do about that, Thomas?”
“If I knew, I would have told you already,” Pitt answered quietly. He put his hand on Jack’s arm. “I don’t think Greville could have done any better. Gladstone didn’t!” He wanted to say something better, something that would let Jack know the warmth of respect he felt for him, but none of the words that came to his mind seemed appropriate. They were too light, too flippant for the reality of the hatred and the loss that filled the conference room, and which Jack had to fight alone every morning and every afternoon.
He took his hand away and pushed it into his pocket.
“I don’t know where I am either,” he confessed.
Jack laughed abruptly. “Trying to keep our heads above a sea of insanity,” he replied. “And probably swimming in the wrong direction. I must get a better collar. By the way, yours is crooked, but don’t bother to straighten it. It’s a touch of familiarity in a world that is frighteningly unfamiliar. Don’t do up your cuff either, or take the string out of your pocket.” He smiled quickly, as lightly and easily as used to be characteristic, then before Pitt could say anything further, went up the stairs two at a time.
Pitt moved away, but as he was crossing the hall and about to turn towards the green baize door to the servants’ quarters, he heard quick footsteps on the wood behind him and his name called.
He turned to see Justine coming towards him, her face filled with concern. Instantly he was afraid it was for Eudora. She had not been at breakfast, but of course no one had expected her.
Justine caught up with him.
“Mr. Pitt, may I speak with you for a few moments, please?”
“Of course,” he agreed. “What is it?”
She indicated the morning room, which was opposite where they stood and next to Jack’s study.
“May we go in there? No one else will wish to use it so early, I think.”
He obeyed, walking ahead of her and holding the door while she went in. She moved with a unique kind of grace, head high, back very straight, and yet with more suppleness than most women, as if dancing for sheer, wild pleasure would come easily to her.
“What is it?” he asked when the door was closed.
She stood in front of him, very earnest. For the first time he noticed signs of strain in her, a momentary hesitation, a small muscle working in the side of her jaw. This must be appalling for her. She had arrived at the house of strangers, at the invitation of the man she intended to marry, in order to meet his parents. They had stumbled into a political conference of the most delicate and volatile nature. And the very next morning they had awoken to the murder of Greville, and then the long, draining task of trying to comfort and sustain Eudora when Justine should have been the center of attention and happiness herself.
He admired her courage and her unselfishness, that she had borne it not only with dignity but considerable charm. Piers had found a remarkable woman. Pitt was not surprised he was determined to marry her—and had informed his parents rather than sought their permission. He respected Piers for that more than he had previously realized.
“Mr. Pitt,” Justine began quietly, “Mrs. Greville told me what you have been obliged to tell her about her maid, Doll Evans.” She breathed in deeply. He could see the fabric of her gown tighten as her body stiffened. She seemed to be weighing her words with intense care, uncertain even now whether to say this or not.
“I wish it had not been necessary,” he said. “There is much I wish she did not have to hear.”
“I know.” The ghost of a smile crossed Justine’s face. “There are many truths it would be better to hide. Life can be difficult enough with what we have to know. Things can be rebuilt more easily if we do not shatter them before we have the strength to cope with the magnitude of it. When you see the whole task, it can be too much. One loses the courage even to try, and then you are defeated from the beginning.”
“What is it you want to say, Miss Baring? I cannot take back what I told her. I would not have spoken at all without having done all I could to make sure it was true.”
“I understand that. But are you sure it was, Mr. Pitt, really sure?”
“Doll told Mrs. Pitt’s maid. Gracie hated breaking the confidence, but she realized that it might be at the core of this crime. It is a very real motive for murder. Surely you can see that?” he asked gently.
“Yes.” Her face was tight with emotion. “If he really did that to her, then I can … I can see how she might have felt he deserved to die. And it seems he did … have affairs with other women, acquaintances … but, Mr. Pitt, they are none of them here in this house now! Isn’t all that matters who is here now, and could have killed Mr. Greville? Can’t you let all the past indiscretions be buried with him, for Mrs. Greville’s sake, and Piers … and even for poor Doll? After all, Doll was with Mrs. Greville almost all the time you are speaking about. And …”
“And what?”
Again she stiffened, her face tight with anxiety.
“And you do not know that the story is true. Yes, of course Doll was with child, and unspeakable as it is”—her eyes were hard with suppressed fury—“she had little chance but to have the child aborted. That would be a better death than any other it faced. But you don’t know that Mr. Greville was responsible.”