Seven Dials Page 0,46

kitchen, and Pitt had not been gone more than an hour.

"Wot are we gonna do?" Gracie asked with an awkward mixture of deference and determination. Nothing would persuade her to stop, and yet she knew she needed Charlotte's help. She was ashamed of having alienated Tellman, and she was confused by it, and for the first time, a little afraid of her own feelings.

Charlotte was busy removing a grease stain from Pitt's jacket. She had already made a fine powder of ground sheep's trotters. It was something she naturally kept in store, along with other ingredients for cleaning agents, such as sorrel juice, chalk, horse hoof parings-clean, of course-candle ends, and lemon or onion juice. She concentrated on what she was doing, dabbing at the stain with a cloth soaked in turpentine, and avoiding looking at Gracie so as not to give any emotional value to what she was saying.

"We should probably begin by speaking with Tilda again," she continued, reaching out and taking the powder from Gracie's hand. She shook a little onto the damp patch and looked at it critically. "A description of Martin might be helpful."

"We gonna look for 'im?" Gracie asked with surprise. "Where'd we start? 'E could be anywhere! 'E could 'a gorn... 'e could be..." She stopped.

Charlotte knew she had been going to say that he could be dead. It was the thought at the edge of her own mind too. "It's difficult to ask people questions about seeing someone if we can't say what he looks like," she replied, using a small, stiff brush to take the powder away. The stain was a lot better. One more time and it would be clean. She smiled very slightly. "It also makes it sound as if we don't know him," she added. "We don't... but the truth doesn't sound very believable."

"I can fetch Tilda ter tell us," Gracie said quickly. "She does 'er errands the same time most days."

"I'll come with you," Charlotte said.

Gracie's eyes widened. It was a mark of Charlotte's seriousness that she would come out into the street to wander around waiting for someone else's housemaid to pass. It was extraordinary friendship. It also made it clear that she believed he could be in very real danger. Gracie looked at Pitt's jacket, then up at Charlotte, the question in her eyes.

"I'll finish it when we get back," Charlotte said. "What time does Tilda go out?"

" 'Bout now," Gracie replied.

"Then you'd better put some more water in the stockpot and pull it to the side of the hob so it doesn't boil dry, and we'll go." Charlotte wiped her hands on her apron, then undid it and took it off. "Fetch your coat."

It was nearly an hour before they saw Tilda coming towards them along the street, but so distracted by her thoughts that Gracie had spoken to her twice before she realized it was she who was being addressed.

"Oh, Gracie!" she said with intense relief, the furrows of anxiety ironing out of her face. "I'm so glad ter see yer. 'Ave yer 'eard anythin'? No-no, o' course yer 'aven't. I'm that stupid or I wouldn't 'ave asked. 'Ow could yer? I 'aven't 'eard a word." Her face puckered again as she said it and tears filled her eyes. It obviously cost her all the will she had to keep any composure at all.

"No," Gracie agreed, taking Tilda by the arm and pulling her a few steps sideways out of the pathway of other pedestrians. "But we're gonna do summink about it. I brought Mrs. Pitt along, an' we can 'ave a cup o' tea an' she wants ter ask yer a few things, like."

Tilda looked at Charlotte, now standing beside them. The maid's eyes were wide with alarm.

"Good morning, Tilda," Charlotte said firmly. "Can you spare half an hour without making your mistress upset with you? I should like to learn a little more about your brother so we can look for him more effectively."

Tilda was momentarily lost for words, then her fear overcame her shyness. "Yes, ma'am, I'm sure she wouldn't mind, if I tell 'er it's ter do wi' Martin. I told 'er already as 'e were missin'."

"Good," Charlotte approved. "In the circumstances I think that was very wise." She glanced up at the gray, misty sky. "Our conversation would be better held inside, over a hot cup of tea." And without waiting for agreement or otherwise, she turned and led the way to the small baker's shop where they