“For God’s sake, man! Would you know if they had?” Reggie lost his temper at last. “Augusta runs your house like a regiment. Most efficient creature I’ve ever met. She wouldn’t tell you if the whole lot were in revolt! She’d deal with it, and you’d still get your dinner in time.”
Balantyne resented the implication that he was a useless appendage to his own household, but he reminded himself that the man was frightened, although he had no idea why; and he made an allowance for him.
“It is not very likely anyone will give notice now,” he said calmly. “It would suggest guilt to the police, and no doubt make things harder for them than remaining here and carrying on in a normal manner.”
Oddly enough, even this, with its impeccable logic, did not noticeably soothe Reggie. He sat rumpled, deep in the armchair, and glowered at his glass.
“Bad business, though,” he said gloomily. “Don’t suppose for a moment they’ll ever find out who did it. Waste of time. All they’ll do is stir up a lot of speculation and gossip.” He looked up. “Could do us a lot of harm, you know, Brandon. Not good to have the police hanging around. People think there must be something wrong.”
Balantyne could see his point, but there was nothing they could do about it, and he was inclined to think that Reggie was exaggerating.
“I’ll lay you odds Carlton would agree,” Reggie said quickly, a lift in his voice. “‘Above suspicion,’ you know, ‘Caesar’s wife,’ and all that. Foreigners are inclined to be funny. Got to keep an immaculate reputation.”
What he said was probably true. Balantyne frowned, looking at Reggie through narrowed eyes. Reggie had poured himself another glass, and unless Balantyne was mistaken, it was not his second, or even his third today. What was he really frightened of?
“What does he say?” Reggie pressed.
“Haven’t spoken to him,” Balantyne replied honestly.
“Might be a good idea if you did,” Reggie tried to smile, and ended with a grimace that was more like bared teeth. “Would myself but I don’t know him as well as you do. Influential man. He might be able to make the police see sense. They’ll never find out who the woman was, not a chance in hell. Probably some servant girl who’s moved away by now. Wouldn’t want to hang around, would she?”
“The police will have thought of that,” Balantyne answered. “We haven’t dismissed any servants or had them leave in the last couple of years; have you?” Suddenly recollection came to him in a blinding understanding. It seemed stunningly obvious now. “How long ago since Dolly died?” he said baldly.
The blood drained from Reggie’s face till Balantyne thought he was going to faint. His skin looked sweaty gray.
“Was that your child that killed her, Reggie?” he asked.
Reggie’s mouth opened, like a fish, and closed again silently. He could not find a lie that would be of any use.
“I thought that was more than two years ago,” Balantyne went on.
“It was!” Reggie found his tongue at last, his lips stiff. “It was! Four years. Couldn’t possibly have anything to do with it! But you know what people are, give a dog a bad name. They’ll think because-” he foundered in the lie, and took another glass of Madeira.
There was no need to press him about the present; the truth was too obvious, the reason he wanted the police out of the square, away from talkative servants. Poor fool!
“I expect they’ll give up of their own accord soon,” Balantyne said with a pity he resented feeling. “But I’ll see what Carlton feels, when I get an opportunity. Don’t suppose that Pitt chap wants to spend more time than he has to up a blind alley. No good for his career.”
“No,” Reggie cheered up visibly. “Don’t suppose we need to point that out to him.” His words were a little blurred. “But speak to Carlton all the same. He must know people; few words in the right places, could get it closed a bit sooner. Save a lot of nasty gossip; some public money too. Whole thing’s a waste of time.” He stood up a little shakily. “Thanks, old man. Thought you’d understand.”
Christina did not appear for luncheon, and Brandy was spending a week in the country with friends. He found himself alone at the table with Augusta.
“Christina still not better?” he said with a touch of anxiety. “Why hasn’t she seen a doctor? Get Freddie to look at her, if Meredith can’t come.”
“Not necessary,” Augusta replied, reaching for cold salmon. “It’s only a chill. Cook prepared her a tray. Have some of the salmon. It’s one Brandy caught last weekend in Cumberland. Very good, don’t you think?”
He took some and tasted it.
“Excellent. Are you sure it’s nothing worse? She’s been in bed for a long time.”
“Quite sure. A spell in bed will do her no harm. She’s been overdoing it lately. Too many parties. Which reminds me, have you remembered we are dining with the Campbells this evening?”
He had not remembered. Still, it could have been worse. Garson Campbell was an interesting fellow, dry humor, if a little cynical; and Mariah was a more than usually sensible woman. Hardly ever heard her indulge in gossip or the endless flirtations that so many women seemed to engage their emotions with.
“Was that Reggie Southeron here this morning?” Augusta asked.
“Yes.”
“What did he want, on a Saturday morning?”
“Nothing really. In a bit of a lather about the police upsetting the servants with a lot of questions and insinuations.”
“Upsetting the servants?” she said incredulously.
He looked at her across the salmon.
“Yes. Why not?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Brandon. Reggie never gave a hoot about the servants, his own or anybody else’s. What did he intend you should do about it anyway?”
He smiled in spite of himself.
“What makes you think he intended me to do anything about it?”
“He didn’t come here to drink your Madeira. You always give him the worst, and he knows it. What did he want?”
“He suggested I should speak to Robert Carlton to see if he can persuade the police to let the thing lie. They’ll probably never discover the truth, anyway, all they can achieve is to waste their time, and stir up a lot of gossip. He could be right.”
“He is right,” she agreed tartly. “But I doubt that is why he is concerned. And I would be surprised if that odd young man-Pitt, I think his name is-will let it die until he has explored a good deal further than he has so far. But you can try, by all means, if you wish. Don’t let Reggie make a fool of himself. It will rub off on all of us. Apart from the embarrassment to Adelina, poor creature.”
“Why should Reggie make a fool of himself?” He had no intention of telling her about Dolly. It was not a matter for a decent woman to know of.
Augusta sighed.
“Sometimes, Brandon, I wonder if you affect to be obtuse merely to annoy me. Reggie wishes to keep the police from questioning his own servants too closely, which you must know quite as well as I do.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” He did not wish to have to explain to her something which would both shock and distress her. She would find it sordid; as indeed perhaps it was, but a common human failing which women were apt, since the offense was against them, to view differently, and without the compassion a man might feel.
Augusta snorted and pushed away her empty plate. The pudding was brought in and served. When they were alone again she looked at him coolly.
“Then perhaps I had better tell you, before you unwittingly say something clumsy and embarrass us all. Reggie sleeps with all his parlormaids, so no doubt he is afraid the police will discover it, and be less than discreet about it. They may even think he has wandered farther afield.”
He was stunned. She was speaking about it as if it hardly mattered!
“How on earth do you know?” he said hoarsely.
“My dear Brandon, everybody knows. One doesn’t discuss it, of course; but one knows.”
“Adelina?”
“Of course she knows. Do you take her for a fool?”
