Rutland Place Read Online Free PDF Page B

mine, and that it is important to me,” Caroline finished awkwardly. “I told you—I can feel them, feel their eyes on me. And don’t say it’s foolish! I know it is, but I’m as sure as I have ever been of anything that there is some—person—here who is watching, watching and laughing!” She shivered. “And hating! I—I have even felt once or twice as if they were following me, in the dusk.” The red color burned uncomfortably in her cheeks.
    “That person sounds like somebody mad,” Charlotte said as levelly as she could. “Very unpleasant, but more to be pitied than feared.”
    Caroline shook her head sharply. “I would prefer to be sorry for madness at a much greater distance.”
    Charlotte was shaken. Her voice came far more roughly, more critically than she had intended.
    “So would most people,” she said. “I think that is what is called ‘passing by on the other side.’ ” Then she stopped, aware of how unjust she was being. She was confused; she was afraid Caroline was hysterical, and she did not know how to treat it.
    A look of amazement crossed Caroline’s face, followed swiftly by anger.
    “Are you suggesting I owe some Christian duty to this creature who stole my pendant, and now is peeping at me and following me?” she said incredulously.
    Charlotte was ashamed and angry with herself. She should not have spoken her thoughts so bluntly, especially since they had nothing to do with the problem, and would hardly be of comfort in what was now obviously a far deeper matter than she had appreciated.
    “No,” she said gravely. “I am trying to make you see that it is not as serious as you believe. If whoever stole or found the pendant is really watching you, and sniggering behind the curtains, then they are not quite right in their minds, and need not be feared so much as viewed with revulsion, and some sense of pity as well. It is not like a personal enemy who wished you harm and had the ability to bring it about.”
    “You don’t understand!” Caroline shut her eyes in exasperation, and the muscles in her face were tight. “They would not need to have any brains to cause me harm! Merely to open the locket and see the picture would be enough! One can be as mad as a bedlamite, and still be able to open a locket and see that the picture inside it is not of your father.”
    Charlotte sat silent a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. There must be a great deal more to it that Caroline had not said. The picture must be more than some dim, romantic memory. Either the dream was still sharp, the event still capable of causing pain, or else the picture was of some man she knew now, here in Rutland Place!
    “Who is it in the picture, Mama?” she asked.
    “A friend.” Caroline was not looking at her. “A gentleman of my acquaintance. There is no more to it than a—regard, but it could easily be misunderstood.”
    A flirtation. Charlotte was only momentarily surprised. She had learned a lot since her total innocence at the beginning of the Cater Street murders. Few people are immune to flattery, a little romance to flesh out the ordinariness of every day. Edward had not been, so why should Caroline?
    And she had kept a picture in a locket. Foolish, but very human. People kept pressed flowers, theater or dance programs, old letters. A wise husband or wife allowed a little privacy for such things, and did not inquire or dig up old dreams to look for answers.
    She smiled, trying to be gentler.
    “Don’t worry about it, Mama. Everyone has something private.” She deliberately phrased it evasively. “I daresay that if you do not make much of it, other people won’t. In fact, I don’t suppose they will wish to. Quite apart from liking you, they probably have lockets themselves, or letters they would prefer not to lose.”
    Caroline smiled bleakly. “You have a charitable view, my dear. You have been out of Society too long. You see it from a distance, and lose the detail.”
    Charlotte