in the letters, once you know what they are, and when you have the originals it’s easy enough to see. Even without these, there are other copies. It is in a sense public knowledge. Any classical expert could find them. He knew his defense was sure.”
“Was it something else?” she asked, meeting his eyes.
“Perhaps not,” he answered very slowly. “Perhaps she always meant to kill him. We only have her word he ever struck her then or the first time.” He reached for the bell cord and pulled it.
“What are you going to do?” She was surprised.
“Find out where the paper knife was,” he replied. “From where Ramsay fell, it had to have been within this space here.” He pointed to one end of the desk. “Which is at his left-hand side. Ramsay was right-handed. It’s not a natural place to keep it. It’s awkward. If he stood in front of her, which he must have done to have fallen where he did, then she was leaning backwards exactly where you were. The knife must have been right to her hand, because she would have had no opportunity to turn and look for it. You can’t possibly turn if someone has his hands around your throat and is trying to kill you, or is doing anything you could mistake for trying to kill you. So it can only have been on the front edge, the farthest edge from Ramsay if he: was sitting in his chair, which is where you would use a paper knife.”
“So where was it?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but not, I think, where she said.”
The door opened and Emsley looked in enquiringly. “Yes sir?”
“You must come into this room regularly, Emsley?”
“Yes sir, several times a day … when Mr. Parmenter was alive.” A shadow of pain crossed his face.
“Where was the paper knife usually kept, exactly? Show me, will you?”
“Which one, sir?”
“What?”
“Which one, sir?” Emsley repeated. “There’s one in the hall, one in the library, and one in here.”
“The one in here,” Pitt said with a trace of impatience.
“On the desk, sir.”
“Where on the desk?”
“There, sir.” Emsley pointed to the far right-hand corner. “It was rather handsome, a model supposed to represent Excalibur … King Arthur’s sword.”
“Yes, I know. It looked more like a French saber to me.”
“A French saber, sir? Oh no, sir, if you’ll pardon me; it is quite definitely an old English sword, sir, quite straight and with a Celtic kind of hilt. A knight’s sword. Nothing French about it.” He was indignant, two spots of color on his pale cheeks.
“Have you two sword paper knives?”
“Yes sir. The library one looks a little more like you describe.”
“You are sure? Absolutely certain?”
“Yes sir. I was a great reader as a boy, sir. Read the Morte D’Arthur a number of times.” Unconsciously he straightened his shoulders a fraction. “I know a knight’s sword from a French saber.”
“But you are sure the saber was kept in the library and the knight’s sword up here? They couldn’t have been changed at some time?”
“They could have, sir, but they weren’t. I remember seeing King Arthur’s sword on the desk here that day. Actually, Mr. Parmenter and I had a conversation about it.”
“You are sure it was that day?” Pitt pressed.
“Yes sir. It was the day Mr. Parmenter died. I will never forget that, sir. Why do you ask? Does it mean something?”
“Yes, Emsley, it does. Thank you. Mrs. Pitt and I will be leaving. Thank you for your assistance.”
“Thank you, sir. Ma’am.”
Outside in the street in the sun and wind, Charlotte turned to Pitt.
“She took it up with her, didn’t she? She intended to kill him. There never was a quarrel. She chose a time when the servants were all at dinner and the family were either in the conservatory or the withdrawing room. Even had there been a shouting match, no one would have expected to hear it.”
He moved to walk on the outside of her, along towards the church. “Yes, I think so. I think from the moment she saw Unity lying at the bottom of the stairs, even before she knew for certain that she was dead, she planned to blame Ramsay. She orchestrated everything to make it seem as if he was losing control of himself, until finally his sanity slipped away from him altogether and he tried to kill her. Then she could kill him, in self-defense, and emerge as the innocent and grieving widow. In time she thought she could marry Dominic,