Balantyne’s knowledge. He might be an excellent military tactician when he had cannon and horses to dispose, but when the battle concerned emotions and the possibility of scandal, he was a babe in arms.
Over breakfast she maintained a civilized conversation about the usual trivialities. General Balantyne, of course, did not mention the murders in the Devil’s Acre that filled the newspapers, in case he should distress her- not realizing that she had read them for herself. And she was perfectly happy to leave him in his ignorance, if it pleased him.
At ten o’clock Lady Augusta called the carriage and gave the coachman instructions to take her to her daughter’s house. She was received with some surprise.
“Good morning, Mama!”
“Good morning, Christina.” She walked in, for once not bothering to notice if the flowers were fresh or if there were new ornaments-not even if Christina’s gown was the very latest. She had already made her comments on extravagance; from now on it was Alan Ross’s affair. Today something infinitely more serious filled her mind.
Christina still looked surprised. “I have only just finished breakfast. Would you care for a dish of tea, Mama?”
“No, thank you. I do not wish to be interrupted by servants coming and going, or the inconvenience of fiddling about with cups.”
Christina opened her mouth to say something, then decided against it. She sat down on the sofa and picked up a piece of embroidery. “I hope you have not been obliged to cancel this evening’s dinner?”
“I have footmen to send on errands like that,” Augusta said dryly. “I wish to talk to you privately, and the opportunity will not present itself tonight.” She looked at her daughter’s charming profile, her soft chin and wide, tilted eyes. How could anyone have such a passionate will and at the same time so little sense of survival? Augusta had tried all her life to impart to her her own understanding of the possible and the impossible, and she had failed. This was going to be unpleasant, but it was unavoidable.
“Will you please put that down-I wish for your attention! A situation has arisen which means that I can no longer allow you to continue with your present behavior.”
Christina’s blue eyes widened in surprise at the questioning of her conduct. She was a married woman and accountable to her husband, but certainly not to her mother!
“My behavior, Mama?”
“Don’t treat me as if I were foolish, Christina. I am perfectly aware that you have been amusing yourself in some most unsavory places. I can understand boredom-”
“Can you?” Christina said scathingly. “Have you really the faintest idea what it is like to be so bored you feel as if your whole life is sliding away and you might as well be asleep for all you do with it?”
“Of course I have. Do you imagine you are the only woman to find her husband tedious and her usual acquaintances infinitely predictable, till she could recite every word of their conversation before they begin?”
“But, Papa-” A shadow darkened Christina’s face. Was it pain or merely irritation? “At least he must have been exciting when he was young, when he was in the army, fighting?”
“My dear girl, how many times do you think I wish to hear the exact detail of the disposition of the guns at Balaclava-or anywhere else? He considered it disloyal to talk about other officers’ faults or ambitions, and vulgar to discuss their love affairs in front of women. Good God! There were times when he bored me till if I had not been a lady I would have screamed at him and slapped his face out of sheer desire to jolt him out of his damned satisfaction! But it would have served no purpose at all. He would not have understood. He would merely have thought I was having hysterics, and ordered me rest and a soothing tisane. So I learned to adjust my expression to look interested and to occupy my mind with something else. A little self-discipline would improve you a great deal, and would provide a rather better understanding of what is really important to you to keep. Alan spoils you-”
“Spoils me? He provides everything I need and then treats me like a social entity, someone to be polite to!” Christina’s face flushed with temper. “He is so pious he is insufferable! He should have married a nun! Sometimes I wonder if he has any passion in him at all-real passion!”
Augusta felt a stab of pity and dismissed it. This was not the time. “Do not confuse passion with mere excitement,” she said coolly. “Excitement is like playing cards for matchsticks-win, lose, or draw, you have nothing left at the end but a pile of splinters.”
Christina’s face set, her chin hard. “Don’t patronize me! I shall do as I choose.”
Augusta changed her approach. “Do you read the newspapers?”
“What of it? If Alan doesn’t mind, it is none of your concern.”
“Then you cannot be unaware that there have been two particularly unpleasant murders in the Devil’s Acre,” Augusta continued.
The color faded from Christina’s cheeks. Max Burton had been footman in the house before she had married Alan Ross. It hurt Augusta to have to recall anything of that painful affair, but Christina’s present foolishness, and now her stubbornness in denying it, left her no alternative. “One of the victims used to be employed as a servant in our house.”
“I know,” Christina said quietly. She took a shaky breath. “It is extremely unpleasant.”
“The police are investigating both crimes.”
“Naturally. Although I cannot see what good it will do. Every so often, people like that are bound to get murdered. I don’t suppose there is the slightest chance they will ever discover who did it, and why hardly matters. I really cannot believe they care-they have to go through the motions because it is expected of them.”
“Doubtless. But that is not the point. It is Inspector Pitt who will try-do you remember Pitt?”
Christina winced.
“There are houses in that quarter,” Augusta continued, “where wealthy women occasionally find themselves some diversion. I dare say it offers them a certain thrill to enter into a world of filth and danger. Perhaps their own looks the sweeter after it?”
Christina’s eyes were hard and angry, her skin tight across the cheekbones. “I have no idea!”
Augusta sighed. “Don’t pretend to be stupid, Christina. And, above all, do not pretend that I am! Alan may prefer to affect ignorance of a great deal that you do-indeed, he appears to be remarkably patient. But he cannot ignore scandal-no one can. The Devil’s Acre will come under very close scrutiny. These crimes have shocked people-and, since Pinchin was relatively respectable, frightened them as well. If you cannot control your taste for slumming, you must do it elsewhere. Although you would be very wise not to do it at all. London is much smaller than you think-you cannot be anonymous for long. Your lady friends will not frequent these gambling houses or music halls, but their husbands might well. What is a dangerous adventure for you is merely a lark for them-”
“Hypocrites!” Christina spat out.
“My dear girl, stop behaving like a child. You are too old for it. Naivete excusable at twenty is boring at twenty-five, and at thirty it becomes ridiculous. You stand in danger of losing your reputation. Take a great deal of thought as to what that means!”
“On the contrary, I am very popular and considered most entertaining!”
“So are buffoons and whores! Do you wish to be one of them?”
Christina’s face was very white. “I’m sorry you imagine I go to cheap music halls, Mama. I have never entered one in my life, so I cannot say what they offer. But if I wished to gamble, there are plenty of perfectly respectable houses where I could do so. And I do not need to find myself a lover-I have more offers than I can entertain!”
Augusta was unimpressed. She had seen Christina’s wounded dignity before. “Do you indeed? Are you telling me you have not been to the Devil’s Acre?”
“I had no intention of discussing it with you at all!”
The matter was too urgent for Augusta to lose her temper. She did not wish to tell Christina that she had learned through an old servant’s loyalty of her trips to the slums under the shadows of Westminster. It would jeopardize the servant’s post-but, more practical than that, it would remove her own source of information, and with Christina so rash there was only Augusta to protect her.
“No doubt,” she said tartly. “Which is why it is just as well I am aware of it for myself. You were seen. You must stop immediately.”
Christina was frightened now. Augusta had known her too long to be deceived by the arrogant stance, the squared shoulders under the thick satin. Good heavens-she was still so much of a child, as feckless as a summer day. So little thought of consequences. She saw what she wanted and reached for it. Where on earth had she come
