was no hesitation. “I saw Unity lying at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Was there anyone on the landing above?”
She said nothing, avoiding his eyes again.
“Mrs. Parmenter?”
“I saw a man’s shoulder and back as he went behind the jardiniere and flowers into the passage.”
“Do you know who it was?”
She was very pale, but this time she did not flinch; she met his eyes squarely. “I cannot be sure enough to say, and I will not guess, Superintendent.”
“What was he wearing, Mrs. Parmenter? What did you see, exactly?”
She hesitated, thinking hard. Her unhappiness was profound.
“A dark jacket,” she said at last. “Coattails … I think.”
“Is there any man in the house whom that description would not fit? Do you recall height, build, anything else?”
“No,” she whispered. “No, I don’t. It was only momentary. He was moving very quickly.”
“I see. Thank you, Mrs. Parmenter,” he said gravely. “Can you tell me something about Miss Bellwood? What kind of a young woman was she? Why should anyone wish her harm?”
She looked down with a fractional smile. “Mr. Pitt, that is very hard to answer. I … I dislike to speak ill of someone who has just met with a tragic death, in my house, and so young.”
“Naturally,” he agreed, leaning forward a little. The room was very comfortable, the warmth of the fire filling it. “Everyone does. I regret having to ask you, but I expect you understand that I must know the truth, and if indeed she was pushed, then it is going to be painful—and inevitably ugly. I am sorry, but there is no choice.”
“Yes … yes, of course.” She sniffed. “I apologize for being so foolish. One keeps hoping … it is not very sensible. You want to understand how such a thing could have happened and why.” She remained still for some moments, perhaps searching for words to explain.
The rest of the house was in complete stillness. There was not even a clock audible anywhere. No servants’ footsteps sounded across the hall beyond the door. The maid in the corner seemed like part of the elaborate decoration.
“Unity was very clever,” Vita began at last. “In a scholastic sort of way. She was a brilliant student of languages. Greek and Aramaic seemed as natural to her as English is to you or me. That was how she helped my husband. He is a theologian, you see, quite outstanding in his field, but his ability with translation is only moderate. He knows fully the meaning of a work, if it is religious, but she could grasp the words, the flavor, the poetic instinct. But she also knew quite a lot of secular history.” She frowned. “I suppose that happens if you study a language? You find yourself learning rather a lot about the people who spoke it … through their writings, and so on.”
“I should imagine so,” Pitt agreed. He was quite well read in English literature, but he had no knowledge of the classics. Sir Arthur Desmond, who had owned the estate on which Pitt had grown up, had been good enough to educate Pitt, the gamekeeper’s son, along with his own son, now Sir Matthew Desmond. But his learning had leaned toward the sciences rather than Latin or Greek, and certainly Aramaic had not entered his thoughts. The King James translation of the Bible was more than adequate to meet all religious enquiry. Pitt concealed his impatience with difficulty. Nothing Vita had said so far seemed in any way relevant. And yet it must be very difficult for her to bring herself to the point. He should not be critical of the cost to her of this honesty.
“The Reverend Parmenter was writing a theological book?” he prompted.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Yes, he has already written two, and a great number of papers which have been highly acclaimed. But this was to be of a much deeper nature than before, and possibly more controversial.” She looked at him closely to make sure he understood. “That is why he needed Unity’s skills in the translation of sources for the work.”
“Was she interested in the subject?” He must be patient with her. This meandering might be the only way she could bring herself to tell the one bitter truth which mattered.
Vita smiled. “Oh, not the theological side of it, Superintendent. Not in the slightest. Unity is … was … very modern in her beliefs. She did not believe in God at all. In fact, she was a great admirer of the work of