“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.”
“Oh good,” she relaxed and gave him a dazzling smile. “I should like to think I was helping.”
He burst out in spontaneous laughter.
The following morning Charlotte did as she had been bidden, and called upon Emily. She warned her very solemnly about the vengeance she might bring upon herself, and even upon George, if she stirred up gossip, however unwittingly, about Euphemia Carlton.
Emily heard her out with a calm, obedient expression, and duly swore to abandon the matter, and do no more than pursue her normal social round. Charlotte thanked her, and left with an unreasonable feeling that she had somehow failed. For one thing, it had been far too easy. She had seen no fear in Emily’s eyes to account for such sudden capitulation, but she could hardly ask for more than one promise to the same effect. She went home and gave the parlor a furious spring cleaning, although it was the first week in November, and beginning to rain.
Pitt returned to Callander Square, and at quarter past ten knocked on the Carltons’ door and asked if he might speak to the servants again. He was shown into the housekeeper’s sitting room, and the parlormaid was sent for.
“Come in.” Pitt sat down in one of the great chairs, so as not to tower over the girl. “Sit down. I hope this business has not distressed you too much.”
She looked at him with some awe.
“No, thank you, sir.” Then she thought better of it. “Well, I mean, yes, it is dreadful, isn’t it? I’m sure I don’t know who it can be!”
“And your mistress? I imagine it may have upset her also?”
“Not more than what pity you’d expect,” she replied. “Very well, she is. I never seen her look so well.”
“Not upset her appetite? Does, with some people, you know; ladies of a delicate disposition.”
“Lady Carlton ain’t delicate, sir, fit as an ’orse, she is, if you’ll pardon the h’expression. None of your fainting and vapors for her-at least-”
He raised his eyebrows in interested sympathy.
“Well, she did come over a bit queer a couple of times, but I reckon that’s her condition, if you take me. O Lor’,” she put her fingers to her mouth and stared at him with round eyes. “You got that out o’ me!”
“No, no,” he said gently. “Besides, I am concerned with the past, not the future.” He hid his annoyance. Now it would not be possible to get any further information from the girl without her immediately knowing what he was seeking. Better speak to the others straight away, before she spread the alarm, even inadvertently.
He went upstairs to see the lady’s maid, past the objections of the bristling housekeeper, because he wished to see the dresses himself; although he had, as yet, no idea what excuse he might use for his interest.
He found the lady’s maid brushing a riding habit and sponging the skirt where the autumn mud had splashed it. She dropped it in some alarm when she saw him.
“Don’t disturb yourself, ma’am” he said as he walked over and picked it up, feeling it between his fingers appreciatively, not yet passing it back to her. “An excellent piece of stuff.” He flipped it over so that the waist was in his grasp. “And well-tailored, too.” He felt quickly at the seams. Nothing. He glanced at the waistband where Charlotte had told him to look. He found it immediately, an extension to the band, a piece let in. He gave it back to the maid, quite casually, smiling at her. “I like to see a well-dressed lady. Gives everyone pleasure.”
“Oh, this is last year’s,” she said quickly. “Quite old, in fact. Lady Euphemia has far better than this!”
“Indeed? I should like to see better than this,” he let a note of polite disbelief fall into his voice. “It’s a very fine cloth.”
She went over to an enormous wardrobe and threw it open. There was a gleam of light on the purples and fuschias and lambent greens of silk.
“How very beautiful,” he said quite genuinely. He went over and touched the soft, shining stuff with his fingers, for a moment forgetting his purpose. There was an amber gown, almost corn gold where the light fell on it, and deep fire russet in the shadows. It must have looked magnificent on Euphemia Carlton, but he saw it on Charlotte. He felt a sharp stab of pain because he could not buy such things for her. He forgot the maid, and Callander Square, and his mind whirled wildly for some idea, some other occupation where he might be able to earn that sort of money.
“Lovely things, aren’t they?” There was a note of wistfulness in the woman’s voice too. He was jerked back to reality. He looked at her pinched figure in its dark stuff dress and white apron.
“Yes,” he agreed, “yes, very.” Rapidly he searched for the waist seams, the sides where letting out would be done. “I expect they take a lot of looking after.” He found nothing yet. “You must be very skilled with a needle.”
She smiled at the compliment.
“Not many men as thinks of that. Yes, I does a lot of work, but she looks a rare sight when I send ’er out of ’ere, if I say that as shouldn’t. I’ve never sent ’er out less than perfect.”
Pitt seized his chance and looked openly at the minute stitching. The waist had definitely been let out, a couple of inches or more.
“You’re quite an artist,” he said, and meant at least part of it. What must it be like for a woman to put all her labor and her love into making another woman beautiful? Then to sit at home and watch her leave for parties and balls, to dance all night and be admired while she stayed upstairs, waiting to receive the clothes back again, press them, mend them for the next time?
“You have every right to be proud,” he said. He let the silk fall and closed the wardrobe doors.
She blushed with pleasure.
