Callander Square (17 page)

She knocked on the door, and immediately went in. She was startled to find Christina up and in process of dressing. She opened her mouth to be angry at the disobeying of her instructions, then closed it again, realizing she was but spiting her own plans.

“I’m glad you are feeling better,” she said instead.

Christina swung round, surprise in her face. She really was a pretty creature, cloud of dark hair, white skin, tilted, wide blue eyes, pert nose, and rounded chin. And her manners were delightful when she chose. Yes, it should not prove an impossible task.

“Mama!”

“I see you have decided to get up. I’m glad, I think it is time.”

Christina’s surprise at the reaction showed for an instant in her face before she masked it.

“Yes. That Miss—whatever-her-name-is, that Papa has employed, made me realize how much I am missing. And people will begin to talk if I do not appear soon. There is no good giving them cause before it is necessary. Anyhow, I may well not be with child. I feel perfectly well now. I have not felt in the least sick or faint for days.” There was a slight edge of challenge to her voice.

“There is no reason why you should,” Augusta agreed. “Being with child is a perfectly natural process, not a disease. Women have been doing it since Eve.”

“I may not be with child,” Christina said firmly.

“No, and on the other hand, you may. It is too early to be certain.”

“If I am,” Christina raised her head a little higher, deliberately, “I shall go and see Freddie Bolsover.”

“You will not. Dr. Meredith will be perfectly adequate to attend you, when the time comes.”

“I do not intend to bear Max’s child, Mama. I have been giving the matter some thought, while I have been lying here. I shall see Freddie, I have heard he can arrange such things—”

For the first time since she had been a young woman herself, Augusta was quite genuinely shocked, both by her daughter, and by the piece of knowledge that Freddie Bolsover either performed abortions himself, or knew who did.

“You will do nothing of the kind,” she said almost softly. “That is a sin which I will not forgive. You can cease to consider it from this moment. I have no wish for any grandchild of mine to carry the blood of that unspeakable footman; but you have made your bed, and we must all lie in it—”

“Mama, I will not—you don’t seem to understand! I do not love Max, I never loved him—”

“I had not imagined you did,” Augusta said coldly. “I am equally sure he did not love you either. That is beside the point. You will not commit murder against your unborn child, if indeed it exists. You will marry someone who will care for you in a suitable manner and give your child a name—”

“I will not!” Christina’s face flamed. “If you think I am going to beg some respectable weakling to marry me just to give my child a father, you are gravely mistaken, Mama. It would be intolerable! He would make me pay for it the rest of my life! He would call me a—a whore—and he would hardly love the child, or give it a home with any—anything worth—”

“Control yourself, Christina. I have no intention that you should do anything of the sort. You will marry a man suitable to your station, and he will have no idea of your condition. You will say the child, if indeed there is one, is premature. Under no circumstances whatsoever will you go to Freddie Bolsover, or anyone else.”

Christina’s face was twisted with contempt and disbelief.

“And who have you in mind, Mama? Why should anyone marry me in time to be of any use? And what happens if he doesn’t believe in premature babies?”

“There are several possibilities. Alan Ross suggests himself as the best. And you will marry him straight after Christmas—”

“He doesn’t love me either!”

“You will see that he comes to. You can be charming enough, if you choose. For your own sake, my dear, you had better choose to charm Alan.”

“And if I’m not with child?” Christina’s chin rose sharply, challengingly.

“By the time you are sure you are not, it will be a little late. Anyway, I think it would be better for you to be married.” She took a breath and spoke very levelly. “Christina, perhaps you do not fully appreciate your position. If you bear a child, without a father for it, you will find that you have no place in society. And don’t imagine that you can overcome it. Others have tried, of better birth and greater fortune than you, and all have failed. No man of your own station will marry you, you will become a butt of jokes, decent women will not speak to you. All the places you go now will be closed to you in future. I dislike having to say this to you, but you must understand that it is true.”

Christina stared at her.

“Therefore, my dear,” Augusta continued, “you will use your considerable charm upon Alan Ross, so that he will be happy to marry you, and you will appear to be in love with him. He is a good man, and will treat you with gentleness, if you permit it.”

“And if he doesn’t wish to marry me?” There was the first small shrillness of panic in Christina’s voice and Augusta felt a stab of pity for her, but there was no time for indulgence now.

“I believe that he will; but if he does not, then I shall find someone else. There are other possibilities. You have an influential father—”

“I couldn’t bear him to know about it! Even to guess!”

“Your father?” Augusta was surprised.

“Alan Ross! Or—whoever—”

“Of course not,” Augusta said sharply. “I have no intention he should. Now pull yourself together and make yourself your most attractive. We shall hold a series of parties, and no doubt you will be invited elsewhere. The sooner this is accomplished the better. Fortunately you have known Alan for a long time, so there will be no comment when you announce a wedding date.”

“How will you persuade Alan of the emergency?”

“Don’t worry about it, I shall find a way. In the meantime, of course, you will entirely ignore Max, apart from such civility as is customary toward a servant. If he should prevail upon you for more than that, you will call for assistance and accuse him of familiarity, and he will be dismissed.”

“I wish you would dismiss him anyway. I find the very thought of him offensive now.”

“I dare say you do. I find it hard to understand how you ever found it anything else. But unfortunately it is not so easy to bury our mistakes. Max has taken steps to see that I do not, and I have not yet thought of a way round them; but I shall. Now consider your future, and behave with your utmost charm; you have exercised yourself to enchant men well enough in the past. Do not overdo it; Alan, like most men, will wish to believe he has done the choosing and the pursuing himself. Allow him to persist in that belief. And wear pink as often as may be. It becomes you, and men like it.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Good. Now compose yourself, and let us direct out efforts to that end.”

“Yes, Mama.”

The following morning Augusta was late over breakfast, which was most unusual for her. She had slept badly. The whole business with Max had distressed her more than she had realized at the time. Perhaps her mastery of herself was not as perfect as she believed. She was still at the breakfast table at half past nine when Brandy came back for another cup of tea. He sat down opposite her, looking at her closely.

“You look a little bashed this morning, Mother. In fact you look the way I feel after a night at the club.”

“Don’t be impertinent,” she said, but without sharpness. She was extremely fond of her son, indeed she might say with honesty she liked him best of all her family. There was a cheerfulness about him that was gentler then Christina, and warmer than his father. Also he was one of the few people who could make her laugh even when she did not wish to.

Now he was squinting at her thoughtfully.

“Hope you haven’t caught Christina’s chill.”

“That is hardly likely,” she said with a shudder.

“I don’t suppose you’d take a day in bed,” he reached for another piece of toast and started a second breakfast. “That would be too much like admitting frailty. But it might show sense. Give it a thought, Mother.” He smiled. “If you like, I’ll swear blind you’ve gone to the races, or shopping!”

“Where on earth should I go to the races, at this time of the year?”

“All right, I’ll say you’ve gone cockfighting, then!” he grinned.

“They’ll be more likely to believe it if you left a note saying we’d both gone,” she replied, meeting his eyes with a smile, in spite of herself.

He shivered.

“Nonsense. I’ve no stomach for blood sports.”

“And do you think that I have?”

“Certainly. You’d have scared the hell out of Napoleon, if he’d met you on a social occasion.”

She sniffed. “Have you just poured yourself the last of the tea?”

“Wouldn’t dare. Really, Mother, you do look a bit dragged out. Take a day off. It’s a decent day, a bit cold, but quite dry. I’ll take you for a drive. We’ll get out the best horses!”

She was tempted. There was nothing she would like better than a drive away from Callander Square, with Brandy. She lingered on the idea, savoring it.

“Come on!” he urged. “Crisp air, fast horses, crunch of wheels on a new road. Last of the beech leaves are still red on the trees.”

She looked at his smooth, olive-skinned face and saw the child in him now, as twenty years ago she had seen the man in him then. Before she could accept, the door opened and Max came in.

“Inspector Pitt is here again, my lady, from the police. Will you see him?”

The crisp air, the flying hooves, and the laughter collapsed.

“I suppose I have no choice,” she pushed her chair back and stood up. “If not now, it will only put him off until later. Put him in the morning room, Max, I’ll see him in a few minutes.”

Brandy was still eating.

“Is it about the wretched babies still? I don’t know why they persist, they’ll never find out whose they were, poor little beggars. I suppose they have to try, but it must be a rotten job. Do you want me to see him? He probably only wants permission to question the servants again.”

“No, thank you, but I appreciate the offer, my dear. I would love to come driving with you, but I cannot.”

“Why not? He’s hardly likely to run off with the silver!”

“I cannot leave him,” she repeated mechanically. She did not want to have to tell him. “How well do you know Alan Ross, Brandy?”

“What?” His hand with the toast in it dropped in surprise.

“How well do you know Alan Ross? The question is simple enough.”

“He’s a good fellow. I suppose I know him pretty well. He closed up rather after Helena took off; but he’s beginning to come out of it now. Why?”

“I wish him to marry Christina.”

He stopped all pretense of eating and put the toast down.

“Your father doesn’t know about it yet,” she went on. “But I have excellent reasons. If you could do anything to further that end, I should be very pleased. Now I suppose I had better see this policeman again,” and she left him still staring after her.

Pitt was waiting for her by the fire, licking its first flames in a still cold grate. She closed the door behind her and stood with her back to it. He looked up, smiling. Did nothing discompose this wretched man? Perhaps he had no sense of what was proper, and thus neither of what was improper? He was enormous and untidy, too many layers of clothes on, and he greeted her with an air of easiness she did not expect, even from her friends.

“Good morning, Lady Augusta,” he said cheerfully. “I would be obliged if I could ask you a few questions.”

“Me?” She had intended to freeze him, but she was overtaken by surprise. “I know nothing about it, I assure you!”

He moved away from the fire to make room for her, and unreasonably the courtesy irritated her, perhaps because she would have preferred to find fault with him.

“I’m sure you are not aware of knowing anything,” he replied, “or you would have told me; but there may be things you have noticed, without at the time realizing their import.”

“I doubt it, but still I suppose, if you must—”

“Thank you. It is proving extremely difficult to trace the woman in the affair—”

“I’m hardly surprised!”

“No,” his mobile face fell into a wry expression, “nor I. We might have better success approaching it from another direction—to find the man.”

The thought flashed through her mind that there might be an opportunity to get rid of Max—

She looked up to find his brilliant gray eyes on her face, disconcertingly. She was conscious above all things of his intelligence; it was an unpleasant feeling to her, and quite new. She could not dominate him.

“You have thought of something?” There was a small smile on the corners of his lips.

“No,” she denied immediately. Then she decided to qualify it, in case an idea about Max came to her later. “I don’t believe so.”

“But you are a discerning woman—”

For a moment she was afraid he was going to flatter her.

“—and you have a young and attractive daughter.” There was no intent to deceive in his face, which in itself was unusual. Society was conducted on mutually agreed deceits. “You must have formed opinions as to the habits, the inclinations of the men in your circle,” he continued, “those who would be suitable for your daughter to associate with, and those who would not; above all, those whose morals were not acceptable to you.”

It was a statement she could not reasonably contradict. His conclusion was inescapable.

“Of course,” she agreed. “But I would hesitate to pass to the police as suspicions such personal dislikes or misgivings as I may entertain myself. They may be groundless, and I might thus unwittingly cause an injustice,” she raised her eyebrows slightly, questioning him in turn, giving him back the onus.

The smile on his mouth flickered upward. She wished he would not look at her so frankly. If Christina had become enamored of this man, she could have understood it a great deal more easily. But then he would very likely have sent her packing! She pulled herself together. The thought was ridiculous—and offensive.

“I will take your advice as merely that, my lady,” he said gently. “Sound advice as to where I might begin. You will agree that I have so far been extremely discreet?”