The Whitechapel Conspiracy by Anne Perry Page B

bed and remade it with clean sheets. Half an hour later she finally slept.
    She woke in broad daylight with a headache—and a determination to do something about the situation. It was not tolerable simply to endure it. It was completely unjust, firstly and mostly of course to Pitt, but also to the whole family.
    She dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen, where she found Gracie sitting at the table. The scullery door was open and a shaft of sunlight fell across the scrubbed floor. The children had already gone to school. She was angry with herself for missing them, especially today.
    “Mornin’, ma’am.” Gracie stood up and went over to the kettle, which was singing on the hob. “I got fresh tea ready.” She poured it into the pot as she spoke and carried it back to the table, where there were two cups waiting. “Daniel and Jemima’s fine this mornin’, off wi’ no trouble, but I bin thinkin’. We gotta do summink about this. It in’t right.”
    “I agree,” Charlotte said instantly, sitting down opposite her and wishing the tea would brew more quickly.
    “Toast?” Gracie offered.
    “Not yet.” Charlotte shook her head very slightly. It still throbbed. “I was also thinking about it half the night, but I still don’t know what there is we can do. Mr. Pitt told me that Commander Cornwallis said it was for his own safety, as well as to keep him in a job of some sort. The people he’s upset would be happy to see him with nothing, and where they can reach him.” She did not want to put it into words, but she needed to explain. “They might have meant him to have an accident in the street, or something like that …”
    Gracie was not shocked; perhaps she had seen too much death when she was growing up in the East End. There was nothing about poverty she had not known, even if some of it was receding into memory now. But she was angry, her thin, little face hardened and her lips drawn into a tight line.
    “All because ’e done ’is job right an’ got that Adinett ’anged? Wot der they want ’im ter do? Pretend like it in’t wrong ’e murdered Mr. Fetters? Or just act daft like ’e never realized wot ’appened?”
    “Yes. I think that’s exactly what they wanted,” Charlotte answered. “And I think not every doctor would have seen anything wrong. It was just their bad luck that Ibbs was quick enough to realize there was something odd, and it was Thomas he called.”
    “ ’Oo is this Adinett, anyway?” Gracie screwed up her brows. “An’ why does anyone want ’im ter get away wi’ murderin’ Mr. Fetters?”
    “He’s a member of the Inner Circle,” Charlotte said with a shiver. “Isn’t the tea ready yet?”
    Gracie looked at her shrewdly, probably guessing how she felt, and poured it anyway. It was a little weak but the fragrance of it was easing, even while it was still too hot to drink.
    “Does that mean they can get away wi’ murder, an’ nuffink is supposed ter ’appen to ’em?” Gracie was clenched up with anger.
    “Yes, unless perhaps someone either brave or reckless gets in the way. Then they get rid of him too.” Charlotte tried to sip the tea, but knew she would burn herself, and more milk would spoil it.
    “So wot are we goin’ ter do?” Gracie stared at her with wide, unflinching eyes. “We gotter prove ’e were right. We dunno ’oo’s in this circle, but we know there’s more o’ us than there is o’ them.” It was not a possibility to her that Pitt could have been mistaken. It was not even worth denying it.
    Charlotte smiled in spite of the way she felt. Gracie’s loyalty was more of a restorative than the tea. She could not let her down by being less brave or less positive. She said the first thing that came into her mind, so as not to leave silence.
    “The thing that made this trial so different was that no one knew of any reason why Adinett should do it. The two men had been friends for years, and no one knew anything of a quarrel, that day