Silence in Hanover Close Read Online Free PDF Page B

of course, it would prejudice him terribly; he would never have any peace of mind at such a slur.”
    “Neither would she!” Charlotte said hotly. “If it is untrue, it could be the most appalling injustice. But I don’t know how Thomas will be able to make any inquiries. It is hardly the thing a policeman can ask of her social acquaintances.”
    Emily smiled. “My dear Charlotte, you don’t need to labor the point so hard. You are being singularly unsubtle, even for you! Of course we will find out. We have done nothing but bake cakes and stitch seams for six months, and I am ready to scream with it. We shall prove Veronica York’s impeccable reputation, or ruin it entirely. Where shall we begin?”
    Charlotte had already anticipated the difficulties. Emily could no longer move in Society as she had when George was alive; and Charlotte, as the wife of a policeman, had not the money to dress appropriately, nor the friends upon whom to call. There was only George’s great-aunt Vespasia, who would understand and assist, but she was over eighty, and since George’s death had taken a less active part in affairs than before. She was devoted to a number of causes, and believed that the battle against poverty and injustice could be tackled through reform of the law. She was currently engaged in a struggle to improve the working conditions in factories which employed children, especially those under the age of ten.
    Charlotte poured more tea into her cup and sipped it. “Are you still in acquaintance with Jack Radley?” She asked, trying to sound casual, as if the question were entirely to do with the problem of Veronica York.
    Emily reached for the ginger cake again. “He calls upon me from time to time. Do you think he might involve himself?” She cut a large slice of the cake and bit into it hungrily.
    “Perhaps he might help us to—to arrange a meeting,” Charlotte suggested.
    “Not us.” Emily made a face. “You.” She poured herself more tea, spilling it. At this she swore, using a word she had heard George use in the stables. Charlotte knew her reaction had nothing to do with the mess in the saucer; she was frustrated by the imprisonment of mourning, and above all the loneliness.
    “I know I shall have to do it this time,” Charlotte agreed. “And you will have to instruct me. I shall gather what information I can, and together we will unravel what it means.”
    It was not like being there herself, catching the nuances of tone, the expression fleeting across the face, the glance from one to another, but Emily knew that Charlotte’s idea was the best she could hope for, and she was grateful for it. It would have been ladylike to wait until Jack Radley called upon her. She did not imagine it would be long before he did; he had made his admiration plain enough six months ago and in the intervening time had visited her on many occasions. It was not the depth of his regard she doubted, but the quality. Did he court her for herself, or because she was George’s widow, with George’s position and George’s money? She enjoyed his company as much as she had ever enjoyed anyone’s—and that was a rather startling admission, considering her suspicions. Put how close is liking to loving?
    When she had married George, he had been the catch of the season. Emily had been perfectly aware of his faults; she had considered them part of the bargain and accepted them graciously. He in turn had proved to be all that she had hoped, and had never criticized any of her imperfections. What had begun as a perfect understanding had grown into something much warmer. Her first perception of him had been as the handsome, reckless Lord George Ashworth, the ideal husband. Her feelings for George had matured into a gentle and loyal love, as she had begun to see the reality of a man who was worldly in sport and finance, charming in society, without the least duplicity in his nature, nor the least subtlety. She had always had enough