Farrier's Lane by Anne Perry

fear and exhilaration.
    “Do you know anyone?” Caroline persisted.
    “No,” Charlotte said quickly. “I never knew anyone; it is Emily who knows people. But we could attempt to make someone’s acquaintance, I suppose.”
    “We must do something,” Caroline said vehemently. “If the wrong person was hanged once—then left to themselves the police may do the wrong thing again. Oh! I’m so sorry! I did not mean to imply Thomas. Of course it will be different with Thomas in charge. But all the same …”
    Charlotte smiled broadly and picked up her rapidly cooling cup of tea.
    “That is all right, Mama. You had better not say anything further—you are only digging yourself deeper. Thomas is not infallible—he would be the first to say so.” She sipped her tea. “And I would be the first to defend him to the death if anyone else said so. But I really know very little about this case, except what you know yourself. Apparentlyit was perfectly horrifying. Do you recall it? It was five years ago.”
    “Certainly not. Your father was alive, and I never read the newspapers.”
    “Oh. Well, I assume you did not know the Blaines, or anyone connected with them—and I am perfectly sure that when Papa was alive you did not know anyone on the stage.”
    Caroline blushed deeply and sipped her tea.
    “I don’t suppose Great-Aunt Vespasia did either,” Charlotte said, trying to smother the laughter out of her expression. “At least not lately. Actors, I mean.”
    Caroline’s eyebrows shot up, missing the humor entirely. “Do you think Lady Cumming-Gould would have known actors? Oh, I think that most unlikely. She is very well bred indeed.”
    “I know,” Charlotte conceded, straight-faced with difficulty. “Well, enough not to need to care what other people thought. She would have known anyone she wished—discreetly, perhaps. But that doesn’t help us. She is over eighty now. The actors she may have known are no use to us. They are probably dead. But she may just possibly have known someone who knew Kingsley Blaine—or knew of him. Perhaps I should ask her?”
    “Oh, would you?” Caroline said eagerly. “Would you please?”
    The prospect was very appealing. Charlotte had not seen Great-Aunt Vespasia for some time. She was not Charlotte’s aunt at all, but Emily’s by marriage to her first husband, but both Charlotte and Emily cared for her more than anyone else except most immediate family, and quite often more even than those.
    “Yes,” Charlotte said with decision. “I think that would be an excellent idea. I’ll make arrangements to go tomorrow.”
    “Oh—do you think it can wait?” Caroline looked crestfallen. “Had you better not go today? It will surely not be easy. Had we not best begin as soon as possible?”
    Charlotte looked down at her stuff dress, then at the oven.
    “Gracie can take the cakes out,” Caroline said quickly, at last showing awareness of the increasingly delicious aroma. “And she will be here when the children return from school, should you be held up. Or I will wait, if that would set your mind at rest. You can take my carriage, which is outside. That would be excellent. Now go upstairs and change into a suitable gown. Go on!”
    Charlotte did not need a second tempting. If Caroline wished it so much, and was willing to remain here, then it would be churlish not to accede to her wishes.
    “Certainly,” she agreed, and without hesitation left the kitchen and went upstairs to find a suitable gown and inform Gracie of the change of plans.
    “Oh,” Gracie said with excitement lighting her face. “You are going to work on the case. Oh ma’am—I was ’opin’ as you would!” She brushed her hands on the sides of her apron. “If’n there’s anything I can do …?”
    “I shall surely tell you,” Charlotte promised. “Regardless, I shall tell you all I discover, if I discover anything at all. For now I am going to call upon Lady Vespasia Cumming-Gould, to see if I