did not waver in the slightest from meeting Pitt’s, but he was afraid. It was in the beads of sweat on his skin, the brightness of his eyes, the way his body was held rigid.
Pitt rose to his feet. “Thank you for your time, Reverend Parmenter. I shall speak to the rest of the household.”
“You … you must find out what happened!” Ramsay protested, taking a step forward and then stopping abruptly. “I did not touch her!”
Pitt excused himself and went back downstairs to look for Mallory Parmenter. When Braithwaite and Stander realized that everything rested upon their word, they might both retract their statements, and Pitt would be left with nothing, except a death and an accusation he could not prove. In a way that would be perhaps the most unsatisfactory outcome of all.
He crossed the spectacular hallway, the body of Unity Bellwood now removed, and found Mallory Parmenter in the library. He was staring out of the window at the spring rain now beating against the glass, but he swung around as soon as he heard the door opening. His face was full of question.
Pitt closed the door behind him. “I am sorry to disturb you, Mr. Parmenter, but I am sure you will appreciate that I need to ask further questions.”
“I suppose so,” Mallory said reluctantly. “I don’t know what I can tell. I have no knowledge of my own as to what happened. I was in the conservatory all the time. I didn’t see Miss Bellwood at all after breakfast. I assume she went upstairs to the study to work with my father, but I don’t know that or what happened after.”
“Apparently they quarreled, so Reverend Parmenter says, and according to the maid and the valet, who both heard them.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Mallory replied, looking down at his hands. “They quarreled rather often. Miss Bellwood was very opinionated and had not sufficient tact or sense of people’s feelings to refrain from expressing her beliefs, which were contentious, to put it at its best.”
“You did not care for her,” Pitt observed.
Mallory looked up sharply, his brown eyes wide. “I found her opinions offensive,” he corrected himself. “I had no personal ill will against her.” It seemed to matter to him that Pitt believed this.
“You live at home, Mr. Parmenter?”
“Temporarily. I am shortly to go to Rome, to take up a position in a seminary there. I am studying for the priesthood.” He said it with some satisfaction, but he was watching Pitt’s face.
Pitt was floundering. “Rome?”
“Yes. I do not share my father’s beliefs either … or lack of beliefs. I do not mean to disturb your sensibilities, but I am afraid I find the Church of England to have lost its way somewhat. It seems not so much a faith as a social order. It has taken me a great deal of thought and prayer, but I am sure of my conviction that the Reformation was a profound mistake. I have returned to the Church of Rome. Naturally my father is not pleased.”
Pitt could think of nothing to say which did not sound foolish. He could hardly imagine Ramsay Parmenter’s feelings when his son had broken such news to him. The history of the schism between the two churches—the centuries of blood, persecution, proscription and even martyrdom—was part of the fabric of the nation. Only a few months before—the past October, to be exact—he had closely observed Irish politics, rooted in passionate hatred between the two religions. Protestantism was immeasurably more profoundly and intensely critical, whether one agreed with those ethics or not.
“I see,” he said grimly. “It is hardly surprising you found Miss Bellwood’s atheism offensive.”
“I was sorry for her.” Again Mallory corrected him. “It is a very sad thing for a human being to be so lost as to believe there is no God. It destroys the foundation of morality.”
He was lying. It was in the sharpness of his voice, the quick bright anger in his eyes, the speed with which he had replied. Whatever he had felt for Unity Bellwood, it was not pity. Either he wished Pitt to think it was or he needed to believe it himself. Perhaps he did not think a candidate for the priesthood should feel personal anger or resentment, especially towards someone who was dead. Pitt did not want to argue about the foundation of morality, although a rebuttal rose to his tongue. The number of men and women whose morality was founded in love of man