Callander Square (6 page)

“Poor Mr. Ross,” she said noncommittally. “He must have been very devoted to her. Was it long ago?”

“Oh, it must be well over a year, perhaps closer to two years.”

Emily’s heart sank. Helena Doran had sounded like an excellent possibility as a suspect. With Sophie’s answer she receded into profound unlikelihood. She looked instinctively across the room at Euphemia. There was a man with her whom Emily had not seen before, a man of considerable distinction, perhaps fifty-five or sixty years old.

“Who is that most elegant gentleman with Lady Carlton?” she asked.

Sophie’s eyes followed hers.

“Oh, that’s Sir Robert! Did you not know?”

“No,” Emily shook her head slightly. He must be at least twenty years older than his wife—a most interesting fact. “I think I should be a little in awe of so grand a husband,” she said carefully. “He looks so very—important. He is in the government, is he not?”

“Yes, indeed. You know, I believe I should also. How perceptive you are. You put so excellently into words exactly what was in my mind, had I but known it.”

Emily was hot on the scent.

“I should not think him a great deal of fun,” she pursued.

“No, indeed.” Sophie looked her up and down and moved a little closer. Emily knew a confidence was coming and her blood tingled with excitement. She smiled encouragingly.

“She is very,” Sophie hesitated, “attracted—to Brandy Balantyne. So charming, Brandy. I swear if I were not simply devoted to Freddie, I should be quite in love with him myself!”

Emily took a deep breath, her heart beating in her throat.

“You mean,” she said in wonder, “she is having an affair with Brandy?”

Sophie held up her finger to her lips, but her eyes were dancing. “And she is expecting!” she added. “About the third month!”

I
T WAS THREE DAYS
before Emily could visit Charlotte and report to her on the Friday afternoon party and deliver her astounding news. The weekend was quite out of the question, not only because George had arranged for them several engagements: a day at the races on Saturday, and then dinner with friends, and on Sunday a society wedding in the midafternoon and the inevitable celebration afterward; but also, of course, because Pitt would be at home. Having reached the rank of inspector, he was not required to work at such times unless he were pursuing a most urgent case. The deaths of two babies, probably illegitimate and some servant girl’s, would not fall in that category.

Emily was in no way ashamed of what she was doing, but she preferred that Pitt should remain unaware of it, at least for the time being.

However, by Monday morning she could contain herself no longer, and took the unprecedented step of calling for her carriage at ten o’clock and having herself driven directly to Charlotte’s house.

Charlotte was both incredulous and amused. She opened the door herself, in a plain stuff dress and apron.

“Emily! What in goodness’ name are you doing here?” There was no need to ask if some disaster had brought her, her face was glowing with excitement; indeed Charlotte could not remember having seen such a look of satisfaction on her face since Emily had announced that she was going to marry George Ashworth: not that he had known it at the time, of course.

“I have the most devastating news!” Emily said, almost willing Charlotte out of the way so she could enter. “You will hardly believe it when I tell you.”

Charlotte summed up the nature of her news immediately.

“Detecting agrees with you more than I expected,” she said with wide eyes. “Perhaps
you
should have married Thomas, not I!”

Emily stared at her with withering reluctance, and then dismay. It was quite a moment or two before she realized Charlotte was teasing her.

“Why, Charlotte—you—” she could think of no word that both described her feelings, and was fit for the tongue of the lady she felt herself to be.

Charlotte laughed.

“Come in, tell me what you have detected, before you burst!”

Emily had intended to drop her clues one by one, to extend the story to its utmost tension, but she could not bear it herself.

“Euphemia Carlton is having an affair!” she said proudly. She waited for Charlotte’s amazement.

Charlotte gratified her, widening her eyes and letting the duster fall from her hand.

“There!” Emily shone with satisfaction. “Pitt hasn’t found that out, has he? The affair is with Brandy Balantyne, and that isn’t all!” She hesitated, for effect.

Charlotte sat down.

“Well?” she inquired.

Emily sat beside her.

“She is expecting! The third month!”

Charlotte was genuinely impressed, and she was perfectly sure Pitt did not know any of this, whether it was actually relevant or not.

“How do you know?” she asked. It seemed the oddest information to have come by on so short an acquaintance.

“Sophie Bolsover told me. She is a silly, harmless creature, and does not seem to have the least notion of its meaning.”

“Or else she knows it has no meaning,” Charlotte did not wish to burst the bubble of Emily’s excitement, but the truth always came to her mouth as soon as it occurred to her mind, and she had not yet managed much skill in controlling it. Besides, it was kinder in this instance not to let the supposition grow without examination.

“How could she possibly know such a thing?” Emily demanded. “If Euphemia is having an affair with Brandy Balantyne, the child will be his! And another thing I haven’t told you—I saw Sir Robert Carlton. He is quite old. Very grand and distinguished, but fearfully grim looking. And his hair is fair and his eyes quite light. Brandy is very dark; his hair is black and his eyes hazel, dark-colored.”

Charlotte remained unimpressed.

“Euphemia is fair!” Emily exploded with exasperation. “Her hair is very handsome, red gold! If the child’s hair is black, there will be the most fearful scandal! No wonder she is frightened.” She blinked. “Thank goodness George is dark and I am fair. Whatever my child should be like, it will raise no comment,” she said quite casually, merely a thought in passing. Emily was practical, above all things.

Charlotte accepted it as such.

“That really is very important,” she said seriously. “About Euphemia and Brandy Balantyne, I mean.”

Emily beamed with satisfaction. She was more pragmatic and more assured than Charlotte, and yet there was something in Charlotte, perhaps an inner certainty of her own beliefs, that made Charlotte’s praise peculiarly valuable to her.

“Shall you tell Mr. Pitt?” she asked.

“I think I must! Is there any reason why I should not?”

“No, of course not. Why else should I tell you? My dear, you know better than to imagine I should trust you with a secret!”

Charlotte was hurt, and it showed in her face.

“Not that you would tell it,” Emily said quickly. “But you would never lie, not successfully. You would betray that you knew something, by your very discomfort, and then have to swear silence. The whole thing would be awful, and grow to be far more important than the secret itself.”

Charlotte stared at her.

“I lie very well,” Emily added. “I think that makes for a good detective, especially if you are not of the police, and therefore cannot be direct in your interest. As soon as I discover something further, I shall tell you.”

Charlotte thought for a moment or two, and then spoke carefully.

“Perhaps you had better see if you can find out how long this affair has been going on. But Emily—please be careful! Do not be carried away with your successes. If they discover what you are doing, you may become very disliked.” She took a deep breath. “More than disliked. As you say, there would be a dreadful scandal. Sir Robert is in the government. If Euphemia was prepared at best to bury her own dead children without Christian rites, or, at worst, actually to kill them herself to protect her reputation, she will not easily let you expose her now!”

Emily had not considered any personal danger before, indeed it had never entered her head that any part of the business would affect her at all. Now she was suddenly cold. The story had suddenly become reality.

Charlotte saw her face pale, her hands clench involuntarily. She smiled and put her fingers over Emily’s.

“Just be careful,” she warned. “Detection is not just an exercise of the mind, you know. People are real, and love and hate are dangerous.”

When Pitt returned in the evening Charlotte met him almost at the door. Emily’s news had been simmering inside her all day, and with the sound of Pitt’s step on the pavement, it had finally come to the boil. She caught hold of his lapels and kissed him quickly.

“Emily came this morning!” she said the instant she let go. “She has discovered something tremendous. Come in and I shall tell you.” It was almost an order, and she freed herself from his grasp and swept into the parlor, standing in the middle to watch his expression as she delivered the broadside.

He came in, his extraordinary face crumpled a little in apprehension.

“Emily has found out that Euphemia Carlton is having an affair with young Brandon Balantyne!” she said dramatically. “And that she is expecting a child!”

If she had wished to shock him, she was fully satisfied. His face went blank as he absorbed the information; then clouded a little with doubt.

“Are you sure she is not—” his eyebrows arched. “—indulging in gossip, a bit of scandalizing?”

“Of course she is indulging in gossip!” she said exasperatedly. “How else does one get information? It is for you to determine if it is true. That is why she came to me, so that I could tell you. It shouldn’t be difficult—” she stopped, as he was laughing at her. “What amuses you?” she demanded.

“You do, my dear. Where did Emily come by this invaluable piece of—gossip?” He moved over to the fire and sat down.

She followed him and knelt on the floor in front of him, commanding his attention.

“From Sophie Bolsover, who seemed to be quite unaware of its importance. And that is not all. Apparently Sir Robert is much older than Euphemia, and very grand and grim. And he has fair hair.”

“Fair hair?” Pitt repeated, looking at her; but his eyes were sharper now. Her heart bumped with excitement. She knew she had woken his interest.

“Yes!”

“I take it Brandon Balantyne is dark?”

“Very. You see?”

“Of course I see. Euphemia has the most beautiful red-gold hair and very fair skin. You would not know, but naturally, Emily will have told you!”

She smiled in great satisfaction.

He touched her cheek gently with his fingers, finding a loose strand of her hair; but his face was unusually stern.

“Charlotte, you must warn Emily to be careful. People in society care very much about their reputations; they matter to them more than we can understand. They may take it very ill if Emily meddles—”

“I know,” she assured him quickly, “I told her. But she will try to learn how long the affair has been going on, if it was already begun when the babies died.”

“No. Leave it for me to do. You must call on her tomorrow. Warn her again.” His hand fell and he gripped her shoulder as she stiffened with quick apprehension. “They are not likely to think her anything more than a nosy woman,” he went on, “with nothing better to amuse herself than gossip, but if Robert Carlton is powerful—”

“Sir Robert?” she was surprised, for a moment uncomprehending.

“Of course Robert, my dear. If he has been thrice cuckolded, he will not want the world to know of it! To be the subject of scandal is one thing, to be laughed at, quite another. Emily would tell you that!”

“I never thought of it.” Suddenly she was really unhappy. She could see Emily’s newfound glory eclipsed in a single, sweeping move. How idiotic they had been, playing at detectives. “I’ll call on her tomorrow morning. If she doesn’t listen to me, I shall tell George. He will make her.”

He gave her a small smile which she could not read.

“But the information is useful?” she pressed, harking back to her triumph.

“Oh extremely!” He was genuine in his appreciation. “It is even possible it will lead to the answer. The problem now is how shall I discover the duration of this affair, and if she has given birth to any other children?” He scowled in thought, growing fiercer as the answer receded.

“That’s easy,” Charlotte stood up, as her feet were getting pins and needles. “Speak to her lady’s maid—”

“Lady’s maids are extremely loyal,” he answered, “as well as needing to keep their employment! She is not likely to tell me her mistress is having an affair and has had two babies who have since disappeared!”

She turned at the table, wriggling her foot to wake it up.

“Of course not!” she agreed with disdain. “Not on purpose! Find out what size dress she takes, if she has lately increased her size, and if she did so two years ago and six months ago. Find out if the seams have been let out on her bodices. If I could look at them, I should soon tell you!”

Pitt smiled broadly.

“Is that not detection?” she demanded hotly. “And discover if she has visited the country.” She frowned. “Although since the bodies were buried in Callander Square, that is not likely.” Her face brightened again. “Discover if she has been ill, feeling squeamish or faint. Then if she has a good or bad appetite. If she has overeaten and put on weight, you are answered! Especially if she has had fancies for certain foods she does not normally care for. Look to the clothes yourself, and don’t ask the lady’s maid about the appetite and the fainting, or she will know well enough what you are thinking. Ask the kitchen maid about the food, and a parlormaid or someone about her health.”

He was still smiling.

She looked at him, then began to doubt herself. The advice had seemed excellent to her as she gave it.

“Is that not the right way?” she blinked.

“Most professional,” he agreed. “It makes me wonder how we have managed to solve crimes at all without women on the force.”

“I think you are laughing at me!”

“Most certainly. But I still think the advice is excellent, and I shall take it.”