prudes when it came to personal liberty. It could be very trying having to deal with them. Pity the man in this case could not have been a gentleman, who would have understood; indeed, would not even have needed an explanation.
Better to forestall the whole business by seeing the others in the square who might be affected, and come to some understanding. Between them they ought to be able to keep this police fellow out of harm’s way, discreetly.
He had made up his mind to this, and was feeling considerably easier, when there was a knock on the door. He was surprised. Servants did not usually knock. If they had something to do, they simply came in and did it.
“Come in,” he answered, swiveling to face the entrance.
The door opened and the governess, Jemima, stood there.
Reggie sat up with a smile. Handsome girl, Jemima, though a bit on the thin side. He liked a rounder bosom, plumper shoulders; but there was a definite charm about her, a spirit in the way she held her head, a delicacy of bone. He had frequently been on the point of putting his arm round her in response to the inviting femininity of her slender back; but she had always moved away, or someone else had appeared.
Now she stood in front of him, looking levelly at him.
“Yes, Jemima?” he said cheerfully.
“Mrs. Southeron said I should speak to you concerning Miss Faith’s music, sir. Miss Faith wishes to learn the violin, instead of the piano-”
“Well, let her, by all means. You are competent in the violin, aren’t you?” Why on earth did Adelina send him such trivial matters?
“Yes, Mr. Southeron. But since Miss Chastity already plays the violin, that will give us two violins and a cello. There is very little music written for such a trio.”
“Oh, yes. I see. Well, perhaps Chastity would like to learn the piano?”
“No, she wouldn’t,” Jemima smiled. She had a charming smile, it went all the way to her eyes. She would have made a good parlormaid, had she been a little sturdier.
“Send her to me, I’ll change her mind,” Reggie leaned farther back in his chair and slid his feet toward the fire.
“Yes, sir,” Jemima turned and walked to the door. She had a nice walk, straight-backed, head high. She was one of those country girls with a swinging step. She made him think of open skies and clean, windy shores: things he liked to contemplate from a winter armchair, or see in a good painting. She was a pleasing creature, Jemima.
It was quite five minutes before Chastity arrived.
“Come in,” Reggie smiled and sat up a little.
She obeyed, solemn-faced, her hair tied back making her eyes look unusually wide.
“Sit down,” Reggie offered, pointing to the chair opposite him.
Instead of perching on the edge, like the other children, she snuggled far back in the deep corner, like a cat, with her feet tucked under her. She still managed to look prim. She waited for him to speak.
“Would you like to learn to play the piano, Chastity?” he asked.
“No, thank you, Uncle Reggie.”
“Playing the piano is a most useful art. You can sing at the same time. You cannot sing at the same time as playing the violin,” he pointed out.
She lifted her chin very slightly and stared back at him.
“I cannot sing anyway,” she said with blank honesty. “No matter what I played.” She hesitated, looking at him with thought. “Faith can. She sings very well.”
The argument defeated him, and he could see from the look in her bright, frank eyes that she knew it.
“Why doesn’t Faith play the cello?” she pressed home her advantage. “Then Patience could learn the piano. She can sing, too.”
He looked at her with a jaundiced eye.
“And if I tell you to play the piano?”
“I shall be no good at it,” she said decidedly. “And then we shall have no trio, and that would be a shame.”
He narrowed his eyes and poured himself another brandy, admiring the rich color of it shining like smoky topaz in the firelight.
“That would be a pity,” Chastity was still regarding him with measured consideration. “Because Aunt Adelina likes us to play for her guests sometimes, at her afternoon parties.”
He gave up. He was about to try another tack, to wit, bribery, when the footman opened the door and announced Inspector Pitt.
Reggie swore under his breath. He had not yet considered his defense. Chastity snuggled still farther into the recesses of the chair. He looked at her.
“You may go, Chastity. We will discuss the matter another time.”
“But that’s the policeman with the untidy hair, Uncle Reggie and I like him.”
“What?” he was startled.
“I like him. Mayn’t I stay and talk to him? I might be able to tell him something!”
“No, you may not. There is absolutely nothing you could possibly know that would be of any use to him. Now go upstairs and have your tea. It must be tea time. It’s getting dark.”
She climbed out of the chair reluctantly and meandered to the door where Pitt was standing holding it open for her. She stopped, craning her head to look up at him.
“Good afternoon, Miss Southeron,” he said solemnly.
She dropped a small curtsey and the corner of her mouth flickered reluctantly into a smile.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
She seemed disposed to linger and Reggie spoke to her sharply. With a look of hurt dignity she swept out, which was an accomplishment, since she was wearing a short skirt and pinafore. Pitt closed the door.
“I apologize,” Reggie said affably. “The child is a menace.” He looked at Pitt’s face and his quaint, rather untidy attire. He made an instant decision to assume an air of frankness, and try to enlist the man as an ally, or at least a confidant. “Children so easily misunderstand,” he went on with a smile. “As indeed do a lot of people. Still, I expect as a man of experience, you’ve seen a lot of life, and you know truth from error when you see it. Have a glass of brandy?” Pity to use the best brandy on a policeman who probably would not know it from the stuff they sold at alehouses. But it might be a good investment in the long event.
Pitt hesitated, made a rapid decision, and accepted.
“Sit down,” Reggie offered expansively. “Wretched business. Don’t envy you. Must be damned hard to sift the truth from all the inventions.”
Pitt smiled slowly, taking the brandy from him.
”Maids bound to spin a few stories,” Reggie continued. “Natural thing. Read too many penny novels, too much imagination. Never realize the damage it can do.”
Pitt raised his eyebrows inquiringly and sipped at the brandy.
Reggie decided to press home the point while the fellow seemed so agreeable. Better to set him straight in advance of any gossip he might hear belowstairs, where he would undoubtedly go in time.
“Easy to understand,” he elaborated in an attempt at jocularity without obvious condescension. “Poor creatures haven’t a lot of excitement, I suppose. A man of intelligence would be bored to death. Bound to embroider the truth a little, eh?”
“Could be mischievous,” Pitt agreed, his clear eyes smiling back at Reggie.
Nice fellow, Reggie thought. Should not be too difficult to steer him into dismissing any unpleasant tales he might hear.
“Quite,” he agreed. “I can see that you understand. Must have run into it before, I daresay. Had this kind of thing happened often?”
Pitt took another sip of his brandy.
“Not quite like this. Not in a square of this-quality.”
“No-no, I suppose not. Thank goodness, eh? Still, I expect you’ve run across servant girls who’ve got themselves into trouble before now, eh, what?” he laughed.
