Midnight at Marble Arch - By Anne Perry Page 0,120

men are concerned, Vespasia says there appears to be a connection between Pelham Forsbrook and Quixwood, but it’s tenuous. They both considered investing in the British South Africa Company. Forsbrook did. Quixwood changed his mind in time and lost nothing. Quixwood does a lot of financial advising, so possibly he told Forsbrook to leave it alone.”

“But what if he didn’t give him the advice?” Pitt suggested.

Narraway sipped his tea. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“We need to find that out,” Pitt answered. “It might make sense of why Catherine Quixwood was so intent on learning about investment, and the British South Africa Company. Perhaps she discovered Quixwood was misleading people in that manner—or perhaps only Forsbrook—and she needed more knowledge from Hythe in order to be certain?”

Narraway thought about it for a moment or two. The manservant came in bringing Pitt a full breakfast, including fresh tea.

“It could make sense,” Narraway finally answered when the manservant had gone. Pitt was eating hungrily. “Except then we are left with a complete stranger raping Catherine, rather than Hythe, which doesn’t fit.”

“That’s true,” Pitt admitted. “But we don’t have any other solution that makes sense either.”

“Unless it is exactly what it appears to be.” Narraway did not like the answer, but he could not deny it. “Catherine was desperately lonely and she gave in to temptation to have an affair with a charming and intelligent man, who shared her interests.”

“But why did Hythe start the affair?” Pitt pressed. “He had nothing of value to gain, and everything to lose.”

“She was lovely and smart,” Narraway said simply. “Perhaps his wife had become boring compared with her?”

“Then why did he rape and beat her?” Pitt said. “Forcing a woman is a crude and vicious thing to do, but to beat her half to death is the act of a man driven by demons within himself, a man completely out of control. Is there anything else in Hythe’s life to draw a picture of him like that?”

“No,” Narraway said thoughtfully. “Nothing at all. But do we always see it? If we do, why does sudden, terrible violence ever happen?”

Pitt smiled reluctantly and swallowed his mouthful of bacon and eggs. “You can’t arrest a man for what you think he could be capable of. And we know a lot more about Hythe because of all this than we do about most people. We also know a lot about Neville Forsbrook. Compare the two of them. Who seems more likely to commit such crimes?”

“But like I said before, there’s no connection between Catherine and either of the Forsbrooks. I would go so far as to say Neville had likely never even met Catherine Quixwood,” Narraway argued.

“No. But if he called on her, would she have let him in? Would she have any reason to fear him?”

“No,” Narraway conceded. “But would she have let the servants retire and sit up alone waiting for him? Unless you are suggesting she was having an affair with Neville? There’s absolutely no evidence at all of that! He’s a generation younger than she is. What on earth could they have in common?”

“I don’t think she was having an affair with him,” Pitt replied, pouring himself more tea. “Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Narraway raised his eyebrows. “What, then? He simply called by because he wanted to rape someone, and he chose her?”

“Of course not,” Pitt answered impatiently. “There’s something important that we don’t know. There must be a connection between the Quixwoods and the Forsbrooks. And somehow these other girls—Angeles, Alice—have gotten caught up in it.”

Narraway felt the panic well up inside him. They were losing the case, and the trial of Hythe might not last beyond today—tomorrow, if they were lucky. He had spoken with Symington. The barrister was going to face the final battle with no more than charm and imagination, which was too little against all the supposed facts.

“It’s too late to look for evidence now,” he said quietly. The taste of failure was bitter in his mouth. “Whatever we find, we couldn’t hope to prove it in a day.”

Pitt’s face was set hard with determination. “Then Symington will have to find a way to suppose, to raise possibilities and doubts.”

Narraway tried to calm his thoughts and compose some line of reasoning. “Is this how you work, Pitt?” he asked. “No, please don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

“Do you have a better solution? Aside from giving in, I mean?” Pitt reached for the toast. He was smiling, but there was tension