don't know," Charlotte said thoughtfully. She reached over and poured the tea for both of them, then replaced the pot on the trivet. "It does sound as if he was very distressed about something, or he would surely have told her he was moving. He may even have found a better position. Can Tilda read?"
Gracie looked up, startled.
"Well, it would be harder to send her a letter if she can't," Charlotte reasoned. "Although I suppose somebody would read it for her."
Gracie felt the sinking feeling inside her grow worse. She was hollow, and yet the thought of eating was repellent. She sipped her tea, and its hot sweetness slid down her throat and made no difference.
"What else?" Charlotte asked gently.
Gracie still hesitated. There was a kind of comfort in being so well understood, but she was still embarrassed to have been so incompetent in dealing with Tellman. It was made worse by the fact that she had always done it so well before. Charlotte would expect better of her than this. She would be disappointed in her. Women were supposed to be cleverer than she had been. She sipped her tea again. It was really too hot. She should have waited.
"Did you learn something else?" Charlotte pressed.
That was easy to answer. "Not really. Even when she told the butler as she was 'is sister, 'e din't tell 'er wot 'appened, nor where 'e'd gone."
Charlotte looked down at the table. "Mr. Pitt isn't in the police anymore. Perhaps we should ask Mr. Tellman and see if he can help."
The heat burned up Gracie's cheeks. There was no escape. "I already asked 'im," she said miserably, looking down at the table-top. " 'E says as there in't nothin' 'e can do, 'cos Martin's got a right ter come an' go without tellin' 'is sister. It in't no crime."
"Oh." Charlotte sat silently for several moments. Carefully she tried her tea and found it just cool enough to drink. "Then we'll have to do something ourselves," she said at last. "Tell me everything you know about Tilda and Martin, and about the Garrick house in Torrington Square."
Gracie felt like a lost sailor who finally sees land on the horizon. There was something they could do. Obediently she told Charlotte the facts of her acquaintance with Tilda, picking out what mattered: her honesty, her stubbornness, the memories of childhood she had spoken about, her dreams of her own family one day, and the things she had shared with her brother over the lonely years of growing up.
Charlotte listened without interrupting, and in the end nodded. "I think you are right to worry," she agreed. "We need to know where he is and if he is all right. And if he is without a position and is too embarrassed by that to have told his sister, then we must make sure she understands, and then if possible, help him to obtain something else. I suppose you have no idea if he is likely to have done something foolish?"
"I dunno," Gracie admitted. "Tilda wouldn't do nothin' daft, but that don't mean 'e's the same. She thinks 'e is-but then she would."
"It is very hard to think ill of our own," Charlotte agreed.
Gracie looked up at her, eyes wide. "What are we gonna do?"
"You are going to tell Tilda that we'll help," Charlotte answered. "I shall begin to make enquiries about the Garrick household. Stephen Garrick at least will know what happened, even if he does not know where Martin Garvie is right now."
"Thank yer," Gracie said very seriously. "Thank yer very much."
ON THE FOURTH DAY after the murder of Edwin Lovat was discovered, the newspapers openly demanded the arrest, at least for questioning, of Saville Ryerson. He was known to have been on the premises at the time, and the writer of the article did not need to do more than ask what business he would have had there to suggest the answer.
Pitt sat at the breakfast table, tight-lipped, his face pale. Charlotte did not make any comment or otherwise interrupt what was obviously a painful train of thought. The defense of Ryerson which Mr. Gladstone had commanded was becoming more and more difficult. She watched him discreetly, and wished there were some way to offer comfort. But if she were honest, she believed Ryerson was guilty, if not of the crime, then at least of attempting to conceal it. Had someone not called the police, he would have removed the body from where the murder took