Midnight at Marble Arch - By Anne Perry Page 0,141

and with Pamela O’Keefe, perhaps with Angeles Castelbranco too, although they would never know that now, unless Isaura knew and would testify to it. It might also prove to the Church that Angeles was a victim, not a sinner. Pitt would not rest until he had done that.

“Thank you, Mrs. Townley. Please tell Alice that her courage may have saved a man’s life. Did you see the bite mark yourself?”

“Yes.” She touched her own left breast lightly.

“If it should be necessary, would you swear to that? I ask because Mrs. Quixwood was bitten in exactly the same place, and so was another girl, one who was killed. I think perhaps he killed her accidentally, when he lost his temper, and was more violent with her than he meant to be. She might have fought with him, as Mrs. Quixwood did. That seems to enrage him beyond control.”

“Yes. I would swear to it. Are you going to see that he is put in prison?” Mrs. Townley asked with fear in her voice.

“At the least,” he replied. “At the very least.” He was making a rash promise and he knew it, but in this quiet, modest home it seemed the only possible answer.

He thanked her again and went out into the silent street. Now it was time to go to the Home Secretary, and ask, respectfully, for a reprieve.

NARRAWAY SAT AT THE dining room table at Pitt’s house the following day. Charlotte and Pitt were there, and Vespasia, and also Stoker, who was looking slightly uncomfortable. The Home Secretary had granted a temporary stay of execution, but that was all it was. Symington was working on an appeal. He had refused to accept any payment from Narraway, although Narraway had offered it again. He had said that victory itself would be enough reward.

Now the five of them sat around the table over a plain but excellent luncheon, for which Minnie Maude had been duly praised.

“We can’t let it go,” Charlotte insisted as the dessert was being served and the last of the main dishes removed. “They may arrest him in a month or two, but what if he gets wind of it and leaves the country again.” She looked at Narraway. “Are you sure Quixwood himself killed Catherine?” Her face was troubled, bitterly aware of the unfinished nature of the case.

“I am,” Pitt interjected gravely.

Charlotte looked at Pitt. “So it was all started by Eleanor Forsbrook having an affair with Rawdon Quixwood? Do we know that was true? I mean know it, not based on a deduction but a fact? Is there really anything to anchor it to reality?”

She turned to Narraway. “Is Rawdon Quixwood as terrible as Symington said? Did he deliberately create this whole appalling tragedy?”

“Yes,” Narraway said with some embarrassment. “I’ve never made such a serious complete misjudgment of anyone in my life as I have of Quixwood.”

Charlotte smiled at him. “We might respect you, but we wouldn’t like you very much if you had withheld your compassion until he had proved himself innocent or guilty. You can’t go through life always guarding against the most awful thing you can think of. You’d be miserable, and worse than that, you’d push away every possible good thing there is.”

Narraway looked down at his plate. “It was not a slight error. I was rather seriously wrong.”

“It was a magnificent one,” Charlotte agreed, glancing at Vespasia, and seeing her smile. “I hate halfheartedness,” she added.

Narraway smiled in spite of himself.

It was Pitt who brought them back to the business at hand.

“The affair between Eleanor and Quixwood is fact. We have witnesses to that now. And the surgeon who examined her body after the accident said some of the bruises predated her death, so Pelham did beat her. And I’ve heard from Rafael Castelbranco that Elmo Crask also added to the story about Neville Forsbrook and the prostitute he beat. Biting seems to be a weakness of Neville’s. That story is also provable, and is even uglier than we first assumed. Neville Forsbrook is a very violent young man with an uncontrollable, and evidently increasing, disposition to rape women. Who knows what has caused him to be that way. I’m sure having a father like Pelham didn’t help him much.”

“What are we going to do?” Vespasia asked, looking from one to the other of them.

“I’ve been thinking,” Pitt said to no one in particular. “We know of Eleanor’s affair and can prove it beyond reasonable doubt. We know that Quixwood advised Forsbrook to