“Ambrosine Charrington?” He stared at her, confused and disbelieving. “But why? Why ever should she steal things?”
Charlotte took a deep breath. “Do you mind if I lie down again? Grace will look after Jemima. I don’t think I can. If I stand up, my head will fall off.”
“Why should Ambrosine Charrington steal things?” he repeated.
She tried to remember what Ottilie had said. As far as she could recall, she had understood it very well at the time.
“Because of Lovell.” She struggled for a way of explaining it. “He’s ossified!” She lay down very carefully, and a little of the pain subsided.
“He’s what?”
“Ossified,” she said again; the word pleased her. “Gone to bone. He doesn’t listen and he doesn’t look. I think part of her hates him. After all, her daughter’s gone away and they have to pretend she’s dead—”
“For heaven’s sake, Charlotte, people of that class don’t have daughters on the halls! It would be unthinkable to him!”
“I know that!” She pulled the covers closer around her chin. Quite suddenly she was cold. “But that wouldn’t stop Ambrosine from loving Ottilie. I’ve met her. She’s really very nice—the sort of person you want to smile at. She makes everything seem a little better. Maybe if Lovell wasn’t such a prune she wouldn’t have gone on the halls. She might have found it all right just to kick over the traces at home every now and again.”
Pitt sat still for a few moments. “Poor Ambrosine,” he said presently.
A dreadful thought occurred to Charlotte. She sat bolt upright, dragging all the clothes with her.
“You aren’t going to arrest her?” she demanded.
He looked appalled. “No, of course not! I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. There’s no proof. And Inigo would certainly deny it. Not that I shall ask him.” He pulled a face. “Still, it removes the thefts as a motive for Mina’s death—although the Charringtons could still have killed her, I suppose.”
“Why? Ottilie isn’t dead!”
His face took on a look of infinite scorn. “And how do you imagine Lovell would care for it to be known in Society that Ada Church, the toast of the halls, is his daughter? He’d probably sooner be charged with her murder! At least it wouldn’t be so damned funny!”
She twisted up her face painfully, torn between irony and frustration. She wanted to laugh, but the very idea hurt.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Write a letter to Dr. Mulgrew.”
She did not understand; the answer seemed ridiculous.
“Dr. Mulgrew? Why?”
He smiled at last. “Because he is in love with Ottilie. He might like to know she’s alive after all. I don’t imagine he’ll care very much about her being on the halls. Anyway, he should have the right to find out.”
Charlotte leaned back on the pillow with a deep sigh of satisfaction.
“You are interfering,” she said pleasantly. She liked to think of Ottilie finding someone who would love her.
He grunted and tucked in his shirttails rather untidily.
“I know that.”
Just before eleven o’clock, when Charlotte was still asleep, she dimly heard a knock on the door, and the next moment Emily was beside her.
“What’s the matter with you?” Emily demanded. “Gracie wouldn’t let me in! Are you ill?”
Charlotte opened her eyes. “She didn’t make a very good job of it!” She squinted up at Emily sideways without moving. “I’ve got a terrible headache.”
“Is that all? Never mind that.” Emily dismissed it and sat down on the bed. “What happened? What about Ottilie Charrington? How did she die, and did her family do it? If you don’t tell me, I shall shake you till you are really sick!”
“Don’t touch me! I’m sick now! She isn’t dead. She’s excellently alive, and singing in the music halls.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Emily’s face creased with disbelief. “Who told you that?”
“Nobody told me. I went to the music hall and saw her myself. That’s why I feel so awful now.”
“You what?” Emily was incredulous. “You went to a music hall? What on earth did Thomas say? Honestly!”
“Yes, I did. And Thomas wasn’t very pleased.” Then memories came back, and Charlotte began to smile. “Yes, I did. With Inigo Charrington, and I drank champagne. Actually it was rather fun, once I got started.”
A comical mixture of expressions chased across Emily’s face: shock, laughter, and even envy.
“Serves you right you’re sick,” she said with some satisfaction. “I wish I’d been there! What was she like?”
“Marvelous. She really can sing, and in a way that makes you want to sing with her. She’s—so very alive!”
Emily tucked up her legs more comfortably.
“So no one murdered her. Then that can’t be why Mina was killed.”
“Yes, it could.” Charlotte recalled Pitt’s argument. “They might have wanted to keep that hidden. After all, she’s Ada Church!”
“Well, who is Ada Church?” Emily was puzzled.
“Ottilie is! Don’t be stupid!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emily was too curious to be offended.
“Ada Church is one of the most famous singers on the halls.”
“Is she? I don’t know the music halls as well as you do!” There was distinct acid in her tone. “But that would be worth hiding. And there’s always Theodora’s income to look into. I expect Thomas is doing that. But we still have to do something about Mama and Monsieur Alaric!”
“Oh yes, I forgot about the locket. She has it back.”
“She never told me!” Emily was angry, affronted by the callousness of it.
Charlotte sat up very slowly and was surprised that her head felt considerably better.
“She didn’t tell me either. Inigo Charrington did. It was his mother who took it, and he put it back.”
“Ambrosine Charrington took it? Whatever for? Explain yourself! Charlotte, did you get drunk?”
“Yes, I think I did. On champagne. But that’s what he said. I wasn’t drunk then.” She explained with care what she could remember. “But that doesn’t mean Mama can go on with her relationship with Monsieur Alaric.”
“No, of course not,” Emily said. “We’d better do something, and before it gets any worse. I’ve been giving it some thought lately, and I’ve come to a decision. We must try to persuade Papa to pay more attention to her, flatter her more, spend time with her. Then she will have no need of Monsieur Alaric.” She looked up at Charlotte, challenging her to argue. She would leave the matter of Ambrosine Charrington and Charlotte’s champagne to another time.
Charlotte considered it for a moment or two in silence. It would not be easy to convey to Edward the importance of such a course, and the change it would necessitate in his behavior, without allowing him to understand the reason for their concern, the danger of Caroline beginning a real affaire with Paul Alaric— not just suppressed passion anymore, but something that might end up in the bedroom. She frowned and took a deep breath.
“Oh, not you!” Emily said immediately. “I just want you for moral support, to agree with me. Don’t you say anything, or you’ll bring on a complete disaster.”
It was not a time to take issue: defense could wait for a more suitable time.
“When are you going?” Charlotte asked.
“As soon as you have dressed. And you had better wash your face with cold water and pinch your cheeks a bit. You are very pasty.”
Charlotte gave her a sour look.
“And you’d better wear something bright,” Emily went on. “Do you have a red dress?”
“No, of course I don’t.” Charlotte crawled out of bed. “Where should I wear a red dress to? I’ve got a wine-colored skirt and coat.”