Pitt hesitated. He had been prepared to be less blunt and this took him by surprise, but to be evasive now would be insulting.
“I suppose, for the present time, that is the truth,” he replied. “But the reason I came today is to tell you that a man has been arrested for the rape, and thus causing the suicide, of another woman. It is not public news yet, but it will be by tomorrow morning.”
Castelbranco was startled. His body stiffened. His dark eyes met Pitt’s with bewilderment. “Another woman? And you can arrest him for raping her?”
Pitt was embarrassed and he knew it showed in his face. “He appears to have had a relationship with her that can be proved,” he explained, feeling as if he was making excuses. “They were seen together. There are letters, gifts between them.”
Castelbranco said nothing, his eyes unmoving, his mouth closed tightly.
“She let him into her house, after dark,” Pitt went on. “When her husband was at a function in the course of his business, and she had dismissed the servants. The man raped her and beat her extremely badly. She was very seriously injured indeed, but it was actually an overdose of laudanum that directly caused her death.”
Castelbranco was stunned. He stepped back and sank into one of the chairs. He breathed in and out heavily, his fingers gripping the leather of the arms. For several moments he did not speak. When he did, it was with difficulty.
“Are you saying that this same … creature … raped my daughter, Mr. Pitt?”
Pitt felt again as if he was making excuses, totally ineffectually.
“No, Ambassador, I’m not. Nor am I suggesting that your daughter had any relationship with the man who did. I’m telling you of this only because the case bears a superficial resemblance, and I don’t want you to hear of it without some warning. Also, the man is only accused. He has not stood trial yet, and he has denied his guilt completely. Indeed, it is possible he is innocent.”
“You said there was a relationship between this man and the woman he raped? Letters, gifts, meetings?” Castelbranco accused.
“Yes, it seems so. And he cannot account for his time on the evening the poor woman was attacked.”
“She let him in? What kind of a woman was she?” Castelbranco glared at him, bewildered and hurt, desperately seeking escape from the thoughts that crowded in on him.
“According to what I have heard, a beautiful woman in her early forties, trapped in a lonely and sterile marriage,” Pitt replied.
“And so she took a lover who was depraved?” Castelbranco closed his eyes as if by not seeing Pitt he could deny the reality of what he had said. “Her poor husband. He must be insane with grief. I hear my daughter spoken of as if she was a loose woman, without virtue, but at least I know it was not true.” The tears seeped between his eyelids and it took him some moments to master himself. “What must he feel, poor man?”
“I can’t imagine,” Pitt confessed. “I’ve tried to. I think about my own wife and daughter. And son,” he added.
Castelbranco stared at him. “Your son?” Clearly he saw no sense in the remark.
“I look at my son.” Pitt did not avert his eyes. “He’s nearly twelve. What will I do to make certain he never misuses any woman, no matter who she is, or how she uses him?”
“Do you imagine this man’s father is thinking such a thing?” Castelbranco asked bitterly. “What guilt could be greater than that?” He gave a slight shrug, painfully, as if his shoulders ached. “Or perhaps he refuses to believe it? It takes great courage to accept the very worst you can imagine.”
“It would be better to have the courage to accept the possibility beforehand, and do what you can to prevent it, I suppose,” Pitt answered him. “But it is too late for that now.”
Castelbranco did not answer, just inclined his head in acknowledgment.
Pitt weighed his words carefully. He still had not delivered the message that was his reason for coming. He must do so.
“If this man proves to be guilty of raping Mrs. Quixwood—and that is by no means certain yet—but if he is, I would not blame Rawdon Quixwood if he were to find the opportunity to kill the man himself,” he admitted. “But much as I daresay Inspector Knox, the policeman concerned, would regret it, he would still have to arrest him and charge