elimination of all the impossibilities, and was left with little else. She was in an ill temper to receive him when Pitt arrived at a quarter past ten.
When she first learned that it was Max who had shown him in, a moment of panic seized her, then she realized that Max’s ambition would never allow him to waste his valuable knowledge by giving it to Pitt, who would pay him nothing for it, instead of first offering it to Augusta, who might pay him in all sorts of ways, only beginning with money, and progressing through advancement to heaven knew what avaricious heights.
She found Pitt in the morning room, warming his hands in front of the fire. It was another bitter day, a hard east wind driving needles of sleet in from the North Sea, and she could hardly blame any living creature for availing itself of any warmth at all, yet she resented this policeman in front of her fire. He did not move because he had not heard her enter.
“Good morning, Mr. Pitt,” she said coldly. “What is it this time?”
He was startled, and he took a moment to compose himself before he turned to face her.
“Good morning, ma’am. I’m afraid we have not yet discovered the truth regarding the bodies in the square-”
“Do you seriously imagine, Mr. Pitt, that you ever will?” She raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
“Perhaps not, ma’am; but I must try a great deal harder before I give up.”
“Indeed. It seems like a waste of public money to me.”
“It was perhaps a waste of human life, which is infinitely more precious.”
“We also seem to have infinitely more of it,” she said dryly. “But of I presume you have to do your duty, as you see it. What is it you imagine I can do that will help you?”
“Give me your permission to speak to your staff again, ma’am; and perhaps to Miss Christina Balantyne. She may have observed some behavior, some small sign that you have been too busy to note.”
Augusta felt her stomach tighten. Was it conceivable he had already heard something? Could Max have been so-no, surely not! Max was, above all, ambitious. He wanted his advantage to use, not to squander.
“I’m sorry, you may speak to the servants, of course; although I must insist that you do not distress them unnecessarily, and I shall have some responsible person with you, to that end; but I regret my daughter is unwell and confined to her bed. Naturally she cannot see anyone.”
“Oh dear,” his expressive face composed itself into lines of sympathy. She had no idea whether he meant it or not. “I do hope it is only a passing indisposition.”
“We believe so,” she replied. “The season of the year, no doubt. It is inclined to affect one. Now which of the servants do you wish to see? The female ones, I presume?”
“If you please.”
She reached for the bell.
“I shall have the butler assist you.”
“I should prefer to speak to them alone. His presence might inhibit them, make them feel less free to-”
“No doubt. But for their protection, the butler will remain with you. I will not have young girls who are my responsibility intimidated, even unwittingly, into saying things which they may afterward regret. Perhaps you do not realize how young and how ignorant some of them are; most suggestible, and easily led.”
“Lady Augusta-”
“Those are the conditions on which you may speak with them, Mr. Pitt. Quite reasonable, I believe.”
There was no further argument he could offer without betraying foreknowledge of some particular guilt, and she defied him at this point to do so.
“Ma’am,” he acquiesced with a slight smile in recognition of her superior tactics. Had he been a gentleman, she might even have liked him, for a moment.
She felt no such sentiment toward Charlotte Ellison when she arrived shortly before midday to assist the general with his papers. Miss Ellison was a young woman she could not warm to-there was an element of emotion about her, of unpredictability, which was dangerous. One could not plan for it because it fell within none of the rules. And yet she seemed harmless enough. She came and went silently and was certainly both civil and, at least to all appearances, well-bred enough. But why should any young woman desire to help a middle-aged general sort out papers pertaining to battles and regiments, instead of seeking herself a husband? It was a question to which, at a less preoccupied time, she would have sought an answer.
As it was she contented herself with asking Brandon over luncheon what manner of creature she was, and if she gave satisfaction as to her clerical ability.
“Yes,” he said with slight surprise, “she appears to be of uncommon intelligence, for a woman.”
“You mean of uncommon interest in those things which interest you-for a woman,” Augusta replied with some asperity.
“Is that not more or less what I said?”
“No, it is not. Most women have perfectly good intelligence for the things which matter, such as the conduct of one’s daily life; but do not desire to apply themselves to the dissection of battles that concerned other people in other countries and at other times. I consider such an interest quite eccentric, and most unnatural in a young woman of decent upbringing.”
“Nonsense,” he said briskly. “Anyone of intelligence ought to appreciate the great history of our nation. We are the greatest military nation in the world; we have spread our civilization to every land and clime God made. We have created an empire and a peace that is the envy and the blessing of the world. Every woman of British blood should be proud of that.”
“Proud of it, of course,” she agreed testily, reaching for the anchovy pate, “but not concerned with the details!”
He took the last piece of toast and did not bother to reply.
It was after that conversation that Augusta turned her thoughts uninterruptedly to the matter of Max’s silence; and at last came up with a satisfactory answer. It was in the quiet hour previous to dinner that she decided to tackle the practical application of it. She went to the small withdrawing room where she would be undisturbed, and sent for Max to attend her.
She felt an overwhelming, almost suffocating dislike of him when he came in. He looked completely bland, as if he expected to discuss some small domestic affair with her. She had never noticed before how insolent his eyes were, how veiled. She must keep the most perfect control of herself.
“Good evening, Max,” she said coolly.
“Good evening, my lady.”
“There is no purpose to be served by our prevaricating. I have sent for you to discuss a matter which I intend shall be dealt with, if not to our mutual advantage, at least not to the disadvantage of either of us. Whether that turns out to be so, depends on you.”
“Yes, my lady?” his face betrayed nothing.
“You have been foolish enough to engage yourself in a liaison with my daughter. You will cease immediately to pay her any attentions whatsoever. You will leave my employ and take up a post in Scotland, which I shall arrange for you and for which I will provide you with references-”
“I have no wish to work in Scotland, my lady.” He stood square in front of her, his eyes burning with slow amusement.
“Probably not. But that is of no concern to me. I have relations in Stirlingshire who will oblige me by finding you a place. The alternative is prison, which I believe is even colder and more barbarous than Scotland.”
“Prison, my lady?” he raised surprised eyebrows. “To lie with a lady of quality, especially if that lady is more than willing, I may add, may be indiscreet, even socially offensive to some, but it is not a crime. And even if it were, I doubt you would wish to charge me with it.” There seemed a distinct sneer on his mouth.
“No, of course not. But stealing silver from one’s employer is a crime.” She met his eyes equally unflinchingly.
His face froze for an instant, understanding dawning in his eyes.
“I have not stolen any silver, my lady.”
“No. But if silver were to be missing, and it were to be found in your belongings, you would find it uncommonly difficult to prove that you had not.”
“That is blackmail.”
“How perceptive of you. I thought you would take the point quite easily.”
