their homes they would deplore such affronts to the fabric of a civilized people.
Carlisle saw the realization in her face and did not bother to explain.
“How perceptive of Mrs. Shaw,” Vespasia said quietly. “I imagine she made certain enemies?”
“There was some … apprehension,” he agreed. “But I don’t believe she had as yet succeeded well enough to cause actual anxiety.”
“Might she have, had she lived?” Charlotte asked with intense seriousness. She found herself regretting Clemency Shaw’s death not only with the impartial pity for any loss but because she could never meet her, and the more she heard, the more strongly she felt she would have liked her very much.
Carlisle considered for a moment before replying. It was not a time for empty compliments. He had known enough of political life and the power of financial interests, and had been close enough to several murders, not to dismiss the possibility that Clemency Shaw had been burned to death to keep her from continuing in a crusade, however unlikely it seemed that she would affect the course of law, or of public opinion.
Charlotte, Emily and Vespasia all waited in silence.
“Yes,” he said eventually. “She was a remarkable woman. She believed passionately in what she was doing, and that kind of honesty sometimes moves people where logic fails. There was no hypocrisy in her, no—” He frowned very slightly as he searched for precisely the words to convey the impression upon him of a woman he had met only twice, and yet who had marked him indelibly. “No sense that she was a woman seeking a cause to fight, or some worthy works to fill her time. There was nothing she wanted for herself; her whole heart was on easing the distress of those in filthy and overcrowded housing.”
He saw Vespasia wince and knew it was pity rather than distaste.
“She hated slum landlords with a contempt that could make you feel guilty for having a roof over your own head.” He smiled awkwardly, a crooked gesture very charming in his
oddly
crooked face. “I am very grieved that she is dead.” He looked at Charlotte. “I presume Thomas is on the case, which is why you know about it?”
“Yes.”
“And you intend to meddle?” The last observation was addressed to all three of them.
Vespasia sniffed a little at his choice of word, but she did not disagree in essence. “You could have expressed yourself more fortunately,” she said with a very slight lift of her shoulders.
“Yes we do.” Emily was forthright. Unlike Clemency Shaw, she was quite definitely looking for something to do,but that was no reason why she should not do it well. “I don’t yet know how.”
“Good.” He had no doubts. “If I can be of assistance, please call on me. I had a great admiration for Clemency Shaw. I should like to see whoever murdered her rot in Coldbath Fields, or some similar place.”
“They’ll hang him,” Vespasia said harshly. She knew Carlisle did not approve of the rope; it was too final, and there were too many mistakes. She did not herself, but she was a realist.
He looked at her levelly, but made no remark. The issue had been discussed before and they knew each other’s feelings. A wealth of experience lay in common, other tragedies, errors and knowledge of pain. Crime was seldom a single act, or the fault of a single person.
“That is not a reason to leave it undone.” Charlotte rose to her feet. “When I learn more I shall tell you.”
“Be careful,” Carlisle warned, going to the door ahead of her and holding it open while they went through, first Vespasia, her head high, her back very stiff, then Emily close behind, lastly Charlotte. He put his hand on her arm as she passed him. “You will be disturbing very powerful people who have a great deal at stake. If they have already murdered Clemency, they will not spare you.”
“I shall be,” she said with conviction, although she had no idea what she was going to do that would
Carlisle saw the realization in her face and did not bother to explain.
“How perceptive of Mrs. Shaw,” Vespasia said quietly. “I imagine she made certain enemies?”
“There was some … apprehension,” he agreed. “But I don’t believe she had as yet succeeded well enough to cause actual anxiety.”
“Might she have, had she lived?” Charlotte asked with intense seriousness. She found herself regretting Clemency Shaw’s death not only with the impartial pity for any loss but because she could never meet her, and the more she heard, the more strongly she felt she would have liked her very much.
Carlisle considered for a moment before replying. It was not a time for empty compliments. He had known enough of political life and the power of financial interests, and had been close enough to several murders, not to dismiss the possibility that Clemency Shaw had been burned to death to keep her from continuing in a crusade, however unlikely it seemed that she would affect the course of law, or of public opinion.
Charlotte, Emily and Vespasia all waited in silence.
“Yes,” he said eventually. “She was a remarkable woman. She believed passionately in what she was doing, and that kind of honesty sometimes moves people where logic fails. There was no hypocrisy in her, no—” He frowned very slightly as he searched for precisely the words to convey the impression upon him of a woman he had met only twice, and yet who had marked him indelibly. “No sense that she was a woman seeking a cause to fight, or some worthy works to fill her time. There was nothing she wanted for herself; her whole heart was on easing the distress of those in filthy and overcrowded housing.”
He saw Vespasia wince and knew it was pity rather than distaste.
“She hated slum landlords with a contempt that could make you feel guilty for having a roof over your own head.” He smiled awkwardly, a crooked gesture very charming in his
oddly
crooked face. “I am very grieved that she is dead.” He looked at Charlotte. “I presume Thomas is on the case, which is why you know about it?”
“Yes.”
“And you intend to meddle?” The last observation was addressed to all three of them.
Vespasia sniffed a little at his choice of word, but she did not disagree in essence. “You could have expressed yourself more fortunately,” she said with a very slight lift of her shoulders.
“Yes we do.” Emily was forthright. Unlike Clemency Shaw, she was quite definitely looking for something to do,but that was no reason why she should not do it well. “I don’t yet know how.”
“Good.” He had no doubts. “If I can be of assistance, please call on me. I had a great admiration for Clemency Shaw. I should like to see whoever murdered her rot in Coldbath Fields, or some similar place.”
“They’ll hang him,” Vespasia said harshly. She knew Carlisle did not approve of the rope; it was too final, and there were too many mistakes. She did not herself, but she was a realist.
He looked at her levelly, but made no remark. The issue had been discussed before and they knew each other’s feelings. A wealth of experience lay in common, other tragedies, errors and knowledge of pain. Crime was seldom a single act, or the fault of a single person.
“That is not a reason to leave it undone.” Charlotte rose to her feet. “When I learn more I shall tell you.”
“Be careful,” Carlisle warned, going to the door ahead of her and holding it open while they went through, first Vespasia, her head high, her back very stiff, then Emily close behind, lastly Charlotte. He put his hand on her arm as she passed him. “You will be disturbing very powerful people who have a great deal at stake. If they have already murdered Clemency, they will not spare you.”
“I shall be,” she said with conviction, although she had no idea what she was going to do that would
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