The Angel Court Affair (Thomas Pitt 30) Read Online Free PDF Page B

inside her to go on, to stand alone, walk in the darkness? It was a terrible thought, and one that she had had to face several times over the years as Pitt’s job, first in the police force and now in Special Branch, took him into danger. She found herself tense in the carriage, so unyielding she was bumped by every unevenness in the road. Would she, in the face of hardship or loss, find nothing inside her to carry her through?
    Jemima also was quiet. Was she disturbed as well, or simply tired? Was she disappointed? She had been so eager to come, and now she offered no comment at all.
    ‘What did you think of her?’ Charlotte asked gently, concerned how she would answer if Jemima were confused. The emptiness in her own mind gave her a feeling of guilt for never having found at least some clarity of faith to teach her daughter. She would soon be seventeen, of marriageable age. She would have decisions to make that would affect the rest of her life.
    ‘She’s a little frightening,’ Jemima said thoughtfully, as though searching her mind for the right words. ‘Not that she’d hurt you, at least not intentionally. I don’t mean that. But . . . she’s so certain of what she means that she’ll risk everything to say it.’ As Jemima looked out of the window of the moving carriage the streetlights flashed on her face, brilliant one moment, shadowed the next. ‘She’s nothing like the vicar,’ she went on, frowning as she struggled to explain herself. ‘He always sounds as if he doesn’t mean it. I suppose it’s the singsong sort of voice he uses, and the fact that he’s saying what he’s told to.’ She turned towards Charlotte. ‘Do you suppose he would actually love to say what he really thinks; only he doesn’t want to upset everyone or lose his job, of course?’
    ‘I should think it’s very likely,’ Charlotte agreed, picturing the Reverend Mr Jameson in her mind. He was mild-mannered, a kind man, a guardian of his flock, but not a crusader. He was exactly what they wanted: gentle assurance, unfailing patience and an ability to judge the right amount of hunger within them. But was it what they needed?
    ‘Is Sofia Delacruz right?’ Jemima asked bluntly. ‘Are we all ignoring who we really are, and sitting comfortably in our pews until we turn into statues?’
    ‘She didn’t say that!’ Charlotte protested, although in truth it was precisely what she herself had been thinking.
    ‘Yes, she did.’ Jemima was quite certain. ‘Not in so many words, of course, but that is what it amounted to. We aren’t really looking for anything, except another position now and then, so we don’t get cramp in our . . .’ She hesitated to use an anatomical word.
    ‘You may say “posterior”, my dear.’ Charlotte was a touch sarcastic because the whole subject was disturbing. ‘You seem to be happy enough to call the vicar and his flock statues.’
    ‘I’m not happy about it!’ Jemima protested, her voice showing the depth of emotion she felt. ‘But if this woman from Spain can be honest about who we are and what we should be doing, then so can I!’
    ‘We need to be honest,’ Charlotte said gently. ‘But we also need to be right. And it would be good to be kind as well.’
    ‘Is it kind to tell people lies because it’s what they are comfortable hearing?’ Jemima stared at Charlotte challengingly. ‘I’ve never heard you do that! In fact when Grandmama tells me I am too candid to people, she says I am just like you.’ There was satisfaction in her voice, even a touch of pride. As they passed under another streetlamp Charlotte could see that she was smiling. With the mixture of strength and softness in her features, she did look startlingly like Charlotte at that age. Charlotte felt a sudden welling up of emotion, and blinked rapidly to hide tears.
    ‘I am not always right,’ she said, staring straight ahead. ‘There are ways of letting people know what you think is the truth. Some are