Page 37 of A Conspiracy in Belgravia
In this he had not changed in all the subsequent years. Another man would have turned on his wife, believing, with sufficient reason, that his affections had been preyed upon. He had continued to extend every courtesy and generosity to Lady Ingram, even as they grew ever further apart, because of this deep conviction: If there was any blame to go around, then some of it must belong to him.
Was it possible that he would absolve himself of that culpability if he should hear something of what Charlotte had learned of his wife? Could Charlotte, in the end, render him this one favor, for everything he had done for her?
Lord Ingram emerged from the silence cabinet. “Would you like to take a walk?”
She blinked. He had never asked whether she wished to go for a walk. “On the heath?”
Hounslow Heath was probably the town’s only claim to fame, other than that it had once been a major stop on the carriage road.
“Yes. It’s a good day and we could both do with more exercise,” he said in all seriousness.
But then the corners of his lips curved.
“Ha,” she said.
“Ha, of course. You will have had a walk with Mrs. Watson today, and fifteen minutes on your feet counts as an active day for you.”
“It must be a sound philosophy, as I am in glorious health.”
“That is called youth and you will pay for your sedentary habits sooner or later. But since I am a terrible friend in this regard...would you like to sit for a while? I understand there’s a place down the street that has won some renown for its Devonshire cream.”
“God bless terrible friends. Yes to the Devonshire cream, of course.” She waited until they had left the shop before asking, “What will Bancroft do?”
“Pull a few levers of power. His people, perhaps he himself, will inspect the house. And needless to say, before the end of the day, someone will also have seen to the site in Tilbury.”
“Why are you herding me to a tea shop, then?”
“Bancroft has asked if you wouldn’t mind staying nearby for some time. I have a feeling he plans to further woo you by letting you inspect the site.”
Death was all around them. Modern medicine, for all its advances, had yet to find a way to prevent vast swaths of the population from being felled by everything from influenza to septicemia. Charlotte had viewed the bodies of a number of neighbors and relatives, so she was no stranger to corpses. But this would be a first.
“He would let me view the murdered man?”
Bancroft, by proposing to her the second time, had proved himself no ordinary man. But she had no idea that he was this unconventional. Could they suit each other, after all?
“It is generally agreed upon that Bancroft has no chivalry,” said his brother.
“What about you?”
“Haven’t you always told me that chivalry should only be practiced on those in need of assistance and not on those perfectly capable of assisting themselves?”
“When did you start to listen to me?”
“I often listen to you, Holmes. I don’t always announce it when I do.”
Lord Ingram was the most fair-minded man she knew—and itwas a fair-mindedness that arose from a sincere desire to put himself in the shoes of another, unlike her general neutrality, which was composed largely of logical distance.
And sometimes, that logical distance came under assault from irrational sentiments. She had told Mrs. Watson that it would have helped him not at all for Sherlock Holmes to turn down Lady Ingram—and she believed it still, absolutely. But when he was open and honest with her—and it couldn’t be easy for him to be that way...
She felt rotten.
“Did it bother you to see Inspector Treadles?” she asked.
He glanced at her askance. “Haveyoutaken up the practice of chivalry? Since when are you concerned as to whether something bothers me?”
“Do excuse me. I meant to say, I saw that Inspector Treadles’s demeanor gave you pause.”
“Only because it was largely directed at you. Has he conducted himself in a similar manner before?”
