The sisters glanced at each other. ‘I am sure we were at home here together as we usually are,’ said Mrs Antrobus, ‘but one day is so very like another.’

‘It would have been the day after the investigator called,’ Sharrock told her. ‘The day after Miss Pearce made her visits to Dr Goodwin and Mr Eckley. That might help place it better in your mind.’

‘You were ill all that day,’ said Charlotte turning to her sister. ‘I remember thinking at the time that it was because that man had upset you.’ She addressed the Inspector. ‘Harriett sometimes wakes up with a pain in her head and when she does it can last the whole day until she sleeps again. She usually retires to bed very early on those occasions.’

‘So at the time Mr Eckley was being stabbed, Mrs Antrobus was in bed. And you, Miss Pearce?’

‘I was here, doing some needlework.’

Constable Mayberry appeared in the doorway. ‘Sir – I found these in the kitchen,’ he said, handing over some cook’s knives.

‘Good work,’ approved Sharrock, examining the knives closely. The metal blades clattered together as he did so, and Harriett flinched. ‘Interesting. A matching set, I believe. Nice quality. Were these all you found?’

‘That was all, sir.’

‘Inspector, where is this questioning tending?’ asked Cornelius, ‘because I am finding it most objectionable. And please stop making so much noise.’

Sharrock said nothing but pushed aside some of the dishes on the parlour table to make a space and laid out the knives on the cloth in order. There were four of them, ranging in size from a small paring knife to a cleaver, but he then parted them to leave a space between the second and third. ‘Something missing, I think: medium size, six inch blade. Something like this.’ He took a paper-wrapped object from his pocket and laid it in the space, then opened up the paper. It was the missing knife, stained with blood and dirt.

Harriett uttered a little gasp and placed a hand over her mouth, and Charlotte recoiled in distaste. Frances and Sarah, who had seen worse sights, gazed at the object with interest. All the knives, including the one Sharrock had brought, had the same design of stout wooden handle stamped with the name of the manufacturer.

‘Surely this is not an object to place on a tea table in front of ladies,’ Cornelius objected. He made to cover it with a napkin, but the Inspector stretched out an arm and prevented him. ‘You are not suggesting it is from the same set are you? The wear on the handle is quite different from the others.’

‘The ladies might be able to enlighten me on this,’ suggested Sharrock, ‘but it is my belief that in a set of knives of different sizes the cook does not use them all the same amount, so some get worn more than others.’

Cornelius glanced at the ladies in the room. ‘Miss Smith?’

Sarah nodded. ‘The Inspector is right.’

Sharrock had that air of satisfaction that always preceded his making someone’s day very uncomfortable. ‘You see, I think that Miss Pearce’s anxiety over Mr Eckley’s enquiries was not so much for Dr Goodwin but for her own reputation and indeed, as I now see from this little celebration, her future prospects. I believe she made an appointment to see Mr Eckley in private, perhaps luring him with the promise of information for his pursuit of Dr Goodwin. She slipped out of the house when Mrs Antrobus was in bed, taking this knife, and stabbed Mr Eckley. As she ran away she bumped into the young person called Ratty. He saw no face, not even eyes as he might have done in the case of a masked robber. What I think he saw was a lady wearing a heavy dark veil. Not wanting to be seen running down the street with a wet bloodstained knife, or get blood on her clothes by putting it in her pocket, she pushed it into one of the flower urns near the school, hoping to recover it at her leisure.’

‘This is outrageous!’ exclaimed Cornelius, forgetting himself, and Mrs Antrobus whimpered in pain and covered her ears. ‘Inconceivable! What possible motive could Charlotte have to do such a thing? She is a gentle creature and quite incapable of any such action.’

Charlotte took his hand and pressed it, laying a finger against her lips.

‘As to motive, that is something that the lady might wish to discuss in private,’ said Sharrock. He rose to his feet. ‘Charlotte Pearce, I am arresting you for the murder of Jonathan Eckley. You are advised not to make any statement that might tend to incriminate you. I require you to accompany me to the station for further questioning.’

Cornelius made to protest, but Charlotte silenced him and rose. ‘I will go. Miss Doughty – Frances – would you be so kind as to stay here with Harriett?’

‘And I will accompany you, my dear, and do everything necessary to resolve this dreadful mistake,’ Cornelius assured her.

The unfortunate maidservant was sitting in a corner, sniffling with fright. ‘Please, everso please, can I go home now?’ she whispered.

Cornelius pressed a coin into her hand. ‘And not a word to anyone of what has happened here.’ She looked at the coin, gasped, nodded and hurried away.

Charlotte departed soon afterwards, leaning on Cornelius’ arm, the couple flanked by the two policemen. Frances and Mrs Antrobus were left with the dismal remains of the celebration. Frances did what she could to console the lady in her misery, but at length the conclusion was that the only thing that would mend the situation was Charlotte’s return.

‘I have every confidence in my uncle,’ said Frances. ‘He will leave nothing undone to assist, I know it.’

‘I am sure of it. He is a true gentleman and a good friend.’

‘Perhaps if you were to tell me everything you know, I might be able to find some way in which I too can help. Is it true that Charlotte went to see both Dr Goodwin and Mr Eckley?’

Harriett nodded.

‘What do you think Inspector Sharrock meant when he referred to Charlotte wanting to protect her own reputation and prospects? Is he just guessing at something?’ Frances’ mind went back to her conversations with Dr Goodwin, the fact that he had admitted he knew the identity of Isaac’s mother and her own firm exhortation to tell the truth, however upsetting. ‘Or has he learned that Charlotte is Isaac Goodwin’s mother? I think he has.’

‘All is now ashes!’ moaned Harriett. ‘My poor sister! I am told the boy is handsome and the image of his father. I hope he is never so cruel as to deceive an unfortunate girl. The man came to the shop – Charlotte assisted our father there sometimes – he represented himself as single and offered her marriage. But we found out too late – far, far too late – that he already had a wife and children.’

‘And Dr Goodwin, who knew your mother since she was a patient of his, helped find a family to care for the child.’

Harriett clasped Frances’ hands. ‘We were so nearly sisters, I think of you still as a kind sister. I know you will not broadcast poor Charlotte’s shame.’

‘No, of course not. I can see why someone might suppose she had good reason to try and stop Mr Eckley from making his enquiries, but from pleading with him to taking violent action against him is a long step which I cannot believe she would take.’

They were expecting a message from Cornelius, but in the event he returned to the house alone, looking like a man crushed by fate. ‘She has been charged with murder,’ he told them, quietly. ‘I have procured the services of a solicitor to stay by her side while Inspector Sharrock speaks to her, but he would not permit me to be present. And would you believe, my poor dear Charlotte never for one moment thought of herself, only you, Harriett. She could not be easy in her mind until I assured her that I would engage a competent servant to care for you, which I have done, and she will be here directly. But you have my solemn promise that I will not rest until Charlotte is free again. Frances, you must instruct Tom Smith’s boys to carry messages to me from the police station every hour of the day, every minute if need be.’