couldn’t know she was going to go through the window. That was what happened, right?”
“Yes, but I didn’t even try,” she gasped. “And I knew something was wrong.”
“And did you know what to do about it? In fact, do you know now?”
“No! But something …”
He slipped his arm around her and she relaxed a little against him. A wave of gratitude engulfed her that he was there, that in all the years his strength had never failed her.
“Thomas …” She did not know if she was going to sound foolish, or even if it mattered now that Angeles was dead.
“What?” he asked. “I can’t just leave. I have to—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.” She pulled away so she could meet his eyes. He waited, frowning a little. Even as she said it she was uncertain. “She wasn’t just angry, Thomas, she was terrified. We saw her over a week ago, Vespasia and I. She was frightened then too.”
He frowned. “Are you certain? Frightened of what?”
“Yes, I am sure. Vespasia thinks—we both thought—that Angeles had been assaulted.”
“Assaulted? Do you mean raped?” He was trying to keep the incredulity out of his voice but it was there in his eyes.
“Yes, I do.” She pictured in her mind Angeles’s face in the marquee when the young man had spoken to her. It was not distaste that had made her back away in such an extreme manner, it had been fear, a reaction to something else. “Yes, I do,” she repeated.
“I’m sorry,” he said very quietly. “I wish it were not so. But does it matter now? Would it not be better for everyone, especially her parents, if we did not raise that question?”
“If somebody did that to her, it’s appalling!” she protested. “It’s one of the worst crimes you can commit against a woman. It’s the reason she was so terrified.”
“Do you know that for certain?”
“No, of course I don’t! But what does anyone know about a crime for certain, before you investigate?” Even as she said it she knew her words were hollow. It was a nightmare dancing at the edge of her mind. She did not know the shape or even the reality of it. “I …” she started, and then stopped again.
“I know.” He touched her cheek. “You feel as if there ought to have been something you could’ve done. We all feel that after a tragedy.”
“Can we at least do anything to help now?” Charlotte asked.
“I doubt it, but I’ll try. Perhaps you should find Aunt Vespasia. I won’t be any longer than I have to. No doubt the police will come quickly.”
“I suppose so. Should I say anything, if they ask me?”
“Tell them exactly what you saw. And be careful—only what you saw, not what you think it meant.” It was a warning, softly spoken but grave.
“I know!” She calmed herself deliberately. “I know.”
All around her people were huddled together, many in silence. The police had arrived and were speaking to them, making notes of what everyone said. Footmen moved among them almost silently, offering whatever refreshment might help, including quite a few stiff shots of brandy.
As Charlotte had expected, the police spoke with her. She was very deliberate in her answers, adding nothing to the facts.
“Is that all you saw?” a gaunt-faced older policeman asked her doubtfully. “You seem much more …” he searched for the word, “… composed than the other ladies I’ve spoken to. Do you know something more about what happened?”
She met his eyes. “No.” Was that a lie? “My husband is head of Special Branch,” she explained. “Perhaps I am just a little more careful of what I say. I want to tell you what I saw, not what I felt or might have imagined.”
“Special Branch?” His eyes opened wider. “Is this—?”
“We came socially,” she answered him. “The entire incident happened without any warning. One moment it was nothing, and then within seconds it became ugly.”
He frowned. “Ugly? What do you mean, Mrs. Pitt? Were there threats? An assault of some kind? Or something that Miss Castelbranco might have interpreted as an assault?” He looked puzzled now.
“No, just hectoring, though it seemed mean-spirited. Miss Castelbranco was clearly upset, and Mr. Forsbrook didn’t let it go. Everyone else could see that it was no longer funny, but he seemed to …” She stopped, aware that finishing her train of thought was more than she wished to say.