Callander Square (27 page)

“Very cut up, he was,” Reggie went on. “Quite unhinged the poor chap for a while. Not that I want to suggest—of course—!”

“But it’s a possibility,” Pitt finished for him.

Reggie assumed an air of reluctance. “Have to admit it,” he said slowly.

“Did he ever say anything to you about another man, a lover?”

Reggie screwed up his face in an effort to bring something to mind.

“Can’t recall. But my dear fellow, you can’t expect me to repeat some casual word, even if I could remember it, that might hang a chap!” he protested.

“Won’t hang anybody on a few words,” Pitt said softly, smiling again. “And you have a moral duty, after all.”

“Oh, quite,” Reggie agreed. This was turning out very well: unfortunate about Alan Ross, but then he might very well have killed Helena in a fit of jealousy. It was the most likely explanation, after all!

Pitt was waiting.

“Well—” Reggie hesitated, not through reluctance, but because he had not yet thought of anything suitable to say. “Can’t bring back words, of course,” he lifted his voice a little at the end, as if to question whether Pitt really wished him to continue; then he hurried on, in case Pitt, by chance, should take it into his mind to stop him. “Just the general meaning. He was very much in love with her. We all thought they would marry, quite soon, in fact. Of course the rest of us had no idea there was another lover. I suppose Ross found out. No idea how. Never said anything to us; but then he wouldn’t, would he? Make rather a fool of him, what? Woman you loved taking some other fellow into her bed.”

“Yes,” Pitt agreed solemnly. “Very painful. A man might react on the spur of the moment.”

“Quite,” Reggie said quickly. “Quite.”

“Then,” Pitt said after a moment’s thought, “on the other hand, it could have been the lover.”

“Lover?” Reggie was taken aback. “Why, for heaven’s sake? Would think he had everything his way, what?” He tried to smile, but felt it a bit stiff on his face. “No reason to hurt her, far as I can see.”

“She was with child,” Pitt reminded him. “The lover’s child.”

“So?” A dark thought had come into Reggie’s mind, a beginning of a very unpleasant fear.

“Would have married her, if he were free to, don’t you suppose?” Pitt was staring at him, bright eyes wide.

Reggie’s mind whirled. This was stupid. He had never touched the girl. No need whatsoever to be nervous. But there was always Freddie and his damned tongue. If the police ever got to know that Reggie played around a little, they might not understand the difference!

“Perhaps he wasn’t suitable, as a husband, I mean,” he faced Pitt squarely. “Might have been a tradesman, or something. Couldn’t marry a tradesman, could she?” No time to be worrying about Pitt’s sensibilities now. Fellow would have to understand there were social distinctions. Must know that anyway; bound to.

But instead of taking offense Pitt merely considered the matter thoughtfully.

“Did she have a liking for tradesmen, then?” he inquired.

“Good God!” Reggie scrambled wildly—what to say? If he said yes, others would give him the lie. Pitt was bound to speak to everyone in the square. Helena had never looked at a tradesman in her life! She was a little over-refined, if anything. Only man, apart from Ross, that Reggie had ever seen her show any admiration for was old Balantyne next door. Liked his bit of pomp and military glamour, no doubt.

“No,” he said as calmly as he could, “no, not at all.” Yes, that was the answer. “In fact never saw her show any interest in anyone that I can recall,” he weighed his words carefully, “except old Balantyne next door. Fine-looking chap, the general. Natural a young girl should be impressed.” Let him take it from there. No need to point out that the general was married. Pitt himself had made the observation about not being free, safe to leave him to infer the rest.

“I see.” Pitt looked down at his feet, then up again, quizzically. “No admiration for you, sir?”

“Me?” Reggie looked shocked. “Good gracious, no. Merchant banker, you know. Not nearly as exciting as the army. No glamour in it, what?” He forced a rather sickly smile. “Nothing to appeal to a romantic young girl.”

“You think Balantyne might have been the unknown lover?”

“Oh, now I didn’t say that!”

“Of course not; you wouldn’t: loyalty and so forth,” Pitt shook his head. “Very admirable.”

Why was the damn fellow smiling inside himself?

“And I take it she was not a type of beauty that especially appealed to you.”

“What?”

“I mean you would not have been jealous, or anything of that nature.”

“God, no! I mean, pardon; certainly not. Too pale, too bloodless-looking for me. Prefer something a little—I’m a married—” No, that sounded too pompous. He let it die.

“Uncommonly handsome parlormaid you have,” Pitt said conversationally. “Couldn’t help noticing. Best-looking girl I’ve seen for a long time.”

Reggie felt his face color. Damn the fellow’s impertinence. Wasn’t driving at something, was he? He looked at the man closely, but there seemed to be nothing beyond innocent appreciation in his eyes.

“Yes,” he agreed after a moment. “Pick them for their appearance, you know. Whole point of a parlormaid.”

“Is it?” Pitt affected interest. “Somebody else said you had a good eye for a parlormaid.”

Reggie froze. Surely Freddie could not have—? He avoided Pitt’s eye.

“Freddie Bolsover, was it?”

“Dr. Bolsover?” Pitt seemed not to understand what he meant.

“Yes. Was it Dr. Bolsover who made the remark about me—and—er, parlormaids?” Reggie cleared his throat. “You don’t want to take too much notice of anything he says, you know. Young. Got rather an unreliable sense of humor.”

Pitt frowned.

“Don’t think I quite understand you, sir.”

“Makes odd jokes,” Reggie explained. “Says things he thinks are funny, doesn’t realize people who don’t know him could take them seriously.”

“What sort of thing? I mean, what would he really mean, and what would be just a joke?”

“Oh,” Reggie thought rapidly, mustn’t panic. Keep cool. “Anything medical, of course, perfectly serious. But might make a joke about me and parlormaids, just for an example.”

“You mean he might say perhaps you had an affair with a parlormaid, or something like that?” Pitt inquired.

Reggie could feel the blood burn in his face, and he turned away.

“That sort of thing,” he tried to sound casual, and nearly choked.

“Sure you won’t have a sherry? Think I’ll have another.” He suited the action to the word.

“Dangerous sense of humor,” Pitt remarked. “No, thank you,” he glanced at the sherry. “I would talk to him about that, if I were you. Could be embarrassing for you, just at the moment.”

“Oh, I will,” Reggie said immediately. “Yes, must do that. Good advice.”

“Surprised you haven’t done it already,” Pitt went on. “You haven’t, I suppose.”

“What?” Reggie nearly dropped the decanter.

“Haven’t spoken to him already?” Pitt raised his eyebrows.

“Did—did he say I had?” Reggie realized as soon as he had said it that it was a stupid question. “I mean—er—”

“Have you?”

“Well—” What in hell should he say? Damn the man, what did he know? If only Reggie could ascertain how much he already knew, then he could tailor his replies! This fishing round in the darkness was frightful.

Pitt pulled a small face—extraordinary face the fellow had—and looked at his fingernails.

“Normal enough, a bit of admiration for a good-looking maid,” Pitt went on thoughtfully. “Lot of men do it. Nothing to remark on. Just could be made to look a bit unfortunate right now.” He looked up, his brilliant, penetrating gaze fixed on Reggie. “Hasn’t been bothering you—Dr. Bolsover—has he?”

Reggie stared. His brain seemed to melt and freeze again. What should he say? Could he trust Freddie? This was an opportunity to get rid of all of it! Or was it? Just a moment! What if Pitt went to Freddie and charged him? Then Freddie would tell them all about Dolly, and that was quite different! Or did they already know that he had been to the bank and drawn out the hundred pounds? Had he spoken to the footman? Was that the thing? Careful, Reggie, think before you speak. Nearly fell into a trap there.

“Good heavens, no,” he forced a sickly smile. “Decent chap, Freddie. Bit of a silly ass at times, that’s all. Wouldn’t mean any harm.”

“Glad to hear that, sir.” Pitt’s eyes did not move from Reggie’s face. “Just thought you might have had a little trouble.”

“Er—trouble? What made you think that?” Must find out what he actually knew.

“Talk to all the servants,” Pitt said lightly, “in the course of investigations, you know.”

Reggie stared fixedly at Pitt’s face.

He knew! He knew about the footman and the bank! If he told a lie about what he had done with the hundred pounds, the damn fellow would go and check up on it, and find out! Too easy. Have to invent something else.

“Well,” he began awkwardly, brain racing. Who should he blame, if not Freddie? Who could not deny it? Who was likely? “Well—to tell you the truth, have had a bit of trouble—not Freddie of course, Freddie’s a gentleman. Governess—” yes, that’s it, “governess got a bit het up—single woman, no admirers, stuck in a job minding children all day. Got a few wild ideas and put a bit of pressure on. Any other time I’d have sent her packing, but right now, as you say, a bit embarrassing. Paid her. Dare say I shouldn’t have, but got to keep the peace, what? You’re a married man. Expect you understand. Sooner pay the girl than have her spread gossip all over the place. She won’t do it again. Anyway, after you clear up all this business, no need, eh?”

“Oh, no,” Pitt pulled a small face. “I take it you don’t want to prosecute?”

“Good God, no! Whole purpose of paying up, keep it all quiet. Deny it all, if you go to her: so shall I! Have to, after all. Wife, and all that. Got to consider the children too. Three daughters. Dare say you knew? Actually two of my own, Chastity’s my brother’s child. Poor fellow was killed. Took her in, naturally.”

“Yes, charming child.”

“Yes, yes. Well, you understand, don’t you? Got to keep it all quiet. Nasty thing if it got out. Very fond of the governess, the girls. And good at her job too,” he said hastily. “Very good.”

“Quite. Well, thank you, sir, you’ve been very helpful.”

“Good. Good. Get it all cleared up soon, I hope?”

“I hope so too. Good night sir, and thank you.”

“Good night; yes, yes, good night.”

Charlotte was incensed when she heard about it the following day. She whirled round from the sideboard where she had been standing, to face Pitt in his chair.

“You mean that that dissipated bounder claimed that Jemima was blackmailing him, and you just stood there and let him?” she demanded. “That’s dastardly!”

“I could hardly contradict him,” Pitt pointed out reasonably. “It seems unlikely, but not by any means impossible.”

”Of course it’s impossible!” Charlotte retorted. “Jemima wouldn’t dream of blackmailing anyone.”

“Spoken from the heart,” Pitt smiled at her with a mixture of affection strongly touched with amusement.

Charlotte was not to be moved. She felt convinced she was right, it was just a matter of thinking of a reason for it.

“All right then!” she looked back at him with determination. “From the head then: do you really think it is worth money to try to keep it secret that he beds the parlormaid? Everyone knows anyway. And Mary Ann hasn’t been there all that long,” she let a note of real intellectual triumph creep into her voice. “Not long enough to have been the mother of the first baby! There was one before her for a short time; she got married and left, and another before that who died.” She faced Pitt with a mounting bubble of excitement inside her. “Everyone knows he behaves badly, I expect even his wife knows, although naturally she would pretend not to—”

He frowned. “Why? Why on earth should she pretend not to know? I would have thought she would be furious, and put a stop to it instantly.”

Charlotte sighed patiently. Really, men were very unsophisticated at times!

“I dare say she doesn’t wish for his attentions all the time herself,” she explained, “and is happy enough for him to take them elsewhere. But if she were forced to know about it, I mean to be seen to know about it, then she would have to complain, be injured, horrified, and so on. Society would require it of her. Also she would look foolish, a deceived wife— a rather humiliating position.”

“But she is a deceived wife,” Pitt pointed out. “Except, of course, that she doesn’t believe the lie, but the offense is the same.”

“No, it isn’t,” she looked at him sideways for a minute. Was he affecting to be ignorant, or did he really not know? Sometimes he teased her appallingly.

He waited in innocence.

“It is not an offense,” she continued after a moment, “if she would rather he did it; at least not against her. The offense would be in making a fool of her in public. Everyone knows he does it, and everyone knows she doesn’t mind. But if she were forced to acknowledge it, then she would have either to create a scene, which would make her seem ridiculous, or else openly to condone it, which would be immoral.”

“How abysmally cynical,” he observed. “Where did you learn all that?”

Her face fell.

“Yes, I know. I think it’s rather disgusting, but that’s what happens. I’ve learned a lot from Emily. She’s very observant, you know; and of course she knows a lot of people of that sort—society, I mean. I would never do that. I should probably have a blazing row.”

He smiled broadly.

“I have no doubt at all that you would, my dear.”

She looked at him quickly.

He held his hands up in defense.

“Don’t worry, we can’t afford a parlormaid, and I swear I shall never touch Mrs. Wickes.”

Considering Mrs. Wickes was fourteen stone and had a moustache, Charlotte did not feel it a great concession.

“How about Jemima?” she asked.

“He doesn’t want to press charges,” he replied.

“Of course he doesn’t! She isn’t guilty!”

“I rather agree with you,” he said thoughtfully. “Which raises the question of why he told me about it. Rather a superfluous and dangerous invention, don’t you think?”