by Anne Perry
She could think of no expression that was not unbearably trite.
“We so seldom really know what another person feels,” she said, picking up the papers again. “There are your uncle’s diaries. Do you wish me to number the pages that refer specifically to military matters?”
“What?”
She repeated her question, holding up the books for him to see.
“Oh yes, yes, please. You are most helpful—” he hesitated, “Miss Ellison.”
She smiled quickly and looked away.
“I’m glad. I assure you I find it very interesting,” and immediately she opened the book in her hand and bent her head to read. As soon as it was five o’clock she closed it and bade him good night, and had Max call her a hansom cab. She gave the driver Emily’s address, and went clattering through the darkness, news bursting on her lips.
SIX
IT WAS BY NOW rapidly approaching Christmas, there were but two weeks to go, and Augusta decided that the matter of Christina and Max must be resolved. She could not expect the child to spend the holiday season in bed; but before she got up, Max must be out of the house. She had been in touch with her relations in Stirlingshire and a position was arranged for him. Nothing now remained but for him to accept the inevitable, and take his leave with a good grace. Augusta had already made the most discreet inquiries regarding his replacement. It would be difficult to find a man as competent, or even as good-looking, as satisfactory a pair for Percy, the other footman, and footmen came in pairs; but that was of secondary consideration.
With a view to informing him of the imminence of his departure, she sent for Max to wait on her in the morning room. She had not yet told the general anything about it, but there would be time enough for that when it was all over. And since he had been agitating her to get rid of Max for months now, he would no doubt be perfectly satisfied.
Max came in and closed the door silently behind him.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Good morning, Max.”
“Good morning, my lady.”
“I have concluded my arrangements for your new position in Stirlingshire. You are to go to Lord and Lady Forteslain. She is a cousin of mine, and you will find the situation adequate, although it may not extend your abilities as London does. However, that is a misfortune you will have to make the best of.”
“I have been giving the matter some consideration, my lady.” There was a small, complacent smile on his mouth. Augusta wondered how Christina could ever have found him attractive, how she could have wanted to be kissed, to be touched by him. The thought was repellent.
“Indeed?” she said coldly.
“Yes, my lady. I don’t think I should care for Stirlingshire; or indeed for any other part of Scotland.”
She raised her eyebrows slightly.
“That is unfortunate, but I am not concerned with your likes and dislikes. You will have to learn to make the best of it.”
“I think not, my lady. I should prefer to remain in London. In fact Callander Square suits me very well.”
“I dare say, but that is not possible. I thought I had already made that clear to you.”
“You did state your position, ma’am. But as I said, I have been giving the matter some thought, and an alternative has occurred to me which I greatly prefer.”
“It will not be acceptable to me!” She tried to stare him out, but his insolence was insurmountable.
“I regret to be so discourteous, my lady, but that is of no concern to me. As you pointed out so plainly, last time you spoke, there are some things which one is obliged to accept, whether one wishes to, or not.”
“There is nothing I am obliged to accept from you, Max. I have told you what I shall do if you do not go to Scotland, and do it graciously. That is an end to the matter.”
“If you charge me with theft, my lady, you will regret it,” his eyes did not waver.
She stiffened, she could feel the skin tighten across the bones of her face.
“Are you threatening me, Max?”
“If you wish to see it that way, yes, my lady, I am.”
“It is an idle threat. There is nothing you can do. I should be believed, and you should not.”
He faced her unflinchingly.
“That depends upon what you value, Lady Augusta. Certainly, if I were to say that I had lain with your daughter, the courts would no doubt believe you, and not me, if you were to swear that I was speaking only out of revenge. It would be a lie,” he smiled very slightly, a light of wry, superior humor in his heavy face. “But I have no delusions that you would not take your oath on it, even so.”
She flushed, feeling the heat in her face, under the sting of his contempt because she was no better than he, and she had permitted him to prove it.
“But,” he went on, “I should not claim it was I who had lain with her. I have a friend, not a servant; I’m afraid he is something of a rake—a gambler who has seen better times, but handsome, in a vulgar way, and with no lack of female friends. Most of them are whores, of course, but they find him attractive. Unfortunately,” his smile curled a little, “he has a disease.” His eyebrows rose, to question if she took his precise meaning.
Augusta shivered with revulsion.
“I should say,” Max continued, “that it was he who had seduced Miss Christina; or to be more correct, he would say so. There would be no connection with my misfortune, and it would be uncommon hard for you to disprove, and hardly worth it, I think. The damage would have been done. Men’s clubs, and so forth, spread the word; all very discreet, nothing open, nothing for you to deny. And if you charge me with theft, I swear it will happen.”
She was frightened, really frightened. There was a power in the man, and a certainty of his own victory. She struggled for something to say. Above all, she would not give in.
“And why should anyone believe that this disgusting friend of yours had ever even seen Christina,” she said slowly, “or that she would speak to him, let alone touch him?”
“Because he will be able to describe this house, in detail, her bedroom, even to the decorations on her bed—”
“Which you know!” she said quickly. “He could have got it from some housemaid easily enough. There is nothing to that,” she felt a quick resurgence of hope.
His eyes were slow, moist, raking her over.
“She has a mole under her left breast,” he said distinctly, “and a scar on her buttock, also the left, as I remember. You will say I also knew that, but I doubt the housemaid does. Do you take my point, my lady?”
It took her the greatest effort of will she could remember not to shout at him, to let go of her temper, her rage and frustration, and scream, “Get out, out of my sight!” She took a deep breath, and summoned a lifetime of discipline.
“Yes, I take your point,” she said quietly, her voice very nearly steady. “You may go.”
He turned, then hesitated at the door.
“You will inform your relations in Stirlingshire that I shall not be coming, my lady?”
“I shall. Now go.”
He bowed very slightly, still smiling.
“Thank you, my lady.”
As soon as the door was closed she gave way. For nearly five minutes she sat and let the shudders of disgust and anger pass through her. To be bested by a servant, a footman with morals of the gutter! She would never forget his hot, familiar eyes on her. To think that Christina had voluntarily lain with this—creature! That she could even now be with his child. It was not to be endured. She must pull herself together. Something must be done. She could not now think how to get rid of Max, but she must at least make absolutely sure that he never touched Christina again. From this hour onward Christina’s behavior must be perfect. Max would not use his trump card unless forced, unless he had nothing to lose by it: because he had only the one play. In ruining her he would ruin himself, therefore he would not press Christina if she treated him with total disinterest from now on. And most certainly
Augusta intended to see that she did!
She stood up and composed herself. There was no further purpose in Christina’s remaining in bed. She was perfectly recovered. She might as well get up and resume her normal life: in fact better that she should, before there was too much speculation as to what condition kept her out of society. If by some disaster she should prove to be with child, Augusta would have to see that she was married as soon as possible, and hope that the birth could be passed off as premature. Fortunately Christina was as dark as Max, so if the child were equally dark there would be no comment. In fact it might be as well if Christina were to be married at the earliest convenience anyway. She obviously had a weakness that required a solution, and there was only one satisfying one. Her mind began to consider possibilities as she crossed the hall and climbed the stairs. It would have to be someone who could be persuaded to marry at very short notice, and without causing a lot of raised eyebrows: therefore he would have to be someone she knew already, so a courtship could be presumed to have taken place. It was hardly feasible that someone of such devastating charm as to make a whirlwind romance believable would marry other than one of his own desire; and for such a man to cross Christina’s path in the next few weeks, and fall in love with her, was expecting too much of fate.
She enumerated the young men of suitable position in her mind, and came up with lamentably few. And among those most owed the Balantynes nothing, nor sought anything from them that would be worth marrying for, without the romantic inclination. Most men married of their wives’ or their mothers-in-law’s choosing, but preferred to think that it was of their own. In this case such a feat of self-deception might be difficult. Fortunately Christina was engaging enough, pretty, spirited, and of an excellent taste in fashion. And she had a sense of wit, and of enjoyment, which was peculiarly attractive to most men.
By the time she had reached Christina’s bedroom door she had whittled the choice down to three, of whom the best seemed to be Alan Ross. Of course everyone knew he had never entirely recovered from his infatuation with Helena Doran, but that also meant he had no attachment to anyone else, and therefore might be agreeable to the arrangement. He could be intractable if he were pressured—he was a man of strong will—but if approached with charm, if Christina exerted herself to attract him, delight him, woo him, he might well, with a tiny added pressure from the general, prove amenable. It was certainly worth trying. There were others who could be bought with military advancement, which of course could be arranged; but they would be far less likely to afford Christina any happiness.
She knocked on the door, and immediately went in. She was startled to find Christina up and in process of dressing. She opened her mouth to be angry at the disobeying of her instructions, then closed it again, realizing she was but spiting her own plans.
“I’m glad you are feeling better,” she said instead.
Christina swung round, surprise in her face. She really was a pretty creature, cloud of dark hair, white skin, tilted, wide blue eyes, pert nose, and rounded chin. And her manners were delightful when she chose. Yes, it should not prove an impossible task.
“Mama!”
“I see you have decided to get up. I’m glad, I think it is time.”
Christina’s surprise at the reaction showed for an instant in her face before she masked it.
“Yes. That Miss—whatever-her-name-is, that Papa has employed, made me realize how much I am missing. And people will begin to talk if I do not appear soon. There is no good giving them cause before it is necessary. Anyhow, I may well not be with child. I feel perfectly well now. I have not felt in the least sick or faint for days.” There was a slight edge of challenge to her voice.
“There is no reason why you should,” Augusta agreed. “Being with child is a perfectly natural process, not a disease. Women have been doing it since Eve.”
“I may not be with child,” Christina said firmly.
“No, and on the other hand, you may. It is too early to be certain.”
“If I am,” Christina raised her head a little higher, deliberately, “I shall go and see Freddie Bolsover.”
“You will not. Dr. Meredith will be perfectly adequate to attend you, when the time comes.”
“I do not intend to bear Max’s child, Mama. I have been giving the matter some thought, while I have been lying here. I shall see Freddie, I have heard he can arrange such things—”
For the first time since she had been a young woman herself, Augusta was quite genuinely shocked, both by her daughter, and by the piece of knowledge that Freddie Bolsover either performed abortions himself, or knew who did.
“You will do nothing of the kind,” she said almost softly. “That is a sin which I will not forgive. You can cease to consider it from this moment. I have no wish for any grandchild of mine to carry the blood of that unspeakable footman; but you have made your bed, and we must all lie in it—”
“Mama, I will not—you don’t seem to understand! I do not love Max, I never loved him—”
“I had not imagined you did,” Augusta said coldly. “I am equally sure he did not love you either. That is beside the point. You will not commit murder against your unborn child, if indeed it exists. You will marry someone who will care for you in a suitable manner and give your child a name—”
“I will not!” Christina’s face flamed. “If you think I am going to beg some respectable weakling to marry me just to give my child a father, you are gravely mistaken, Mama. It would be intolerable! He would make me pay for it the rest of my life! He would call me a—a whore—and he would hardly love the child, or give it a home with any—anything worth—”
“Control yourself, Christina. I have no intention that you should do anything of the sort. You will marry a man suitable to your station, and he will have no idea of your condition. You will say the child, if indeed there is one, is premature. Under no circumstances whatsoever will you go to Freddie Bolsover, or anyone else.”
Christina’s face was twisted with contempt and disbelief.
“And who have you in mind, Mama? Why should anyone marry me in time to be of any use? And what happens if he doesn’t believe in premature babies?”
“There are several possibilities. Alan Ross suggests himself as the best. And you will marry him straight after Christmas—”
“He doesn’t love me either!”
“You will see that he comes to. You can be charming enough, if you choose. For your own sake, my dear, you had better choose to charm Alan.”
“And if I’m not with child?” Christina’s chin rose sharply, challengingly.
“By the time you are sure you are not, it will be a little late. Anyway, I think it would be better for you to be married.” She took a breath and spoke very levelly. “Christina, perhaps you do not fully appreciate your position. If you bear a child, without a father for it, you will find that you have no place in society. And don’t imagine that you can overcome it. Others have tried, of better birth and greater fortune than you, and all have failed. No man of your own station will marry you, you will become a butt of jokes, decent women will not speak to you. All the places you go now will be closed to you in future. I dislike having to say this to you, but you must understand that it is true.”
Christina stared at her.
“Therefore, my dear,” Augusta continued, “you will use your considerable charm upon Alan Ross, so that he will be happy to marry you, and you will appear to be in love with him. He is a good man, and will treat you with gentleness, if you permit it.”
“And if he doesn’t wish to marry me?” There was the first small shrillness of panic in Christina’s voice and Augusta felt a stab of pity for her, but there was no time for indulgence now.
“I believe that he will; but if he does not, then I shall find someone else. There are other possibilities. You have an influential father—”
“I couldn’t bear him to know about it! Even to guess!”
“Your father?” Augusta was sur
prised.
“Alan Ross! Or—whoever—”
“Of course not,” Augusta said sharply. “I have no intention he should. Now pull yourself together and make yourself your most attractive. We shall hold a series of parties, and no doubt you will be invited elsewhere. The sooner this is accomplished the better. Fortunately you have known Alan for a long time, so there will be no comment when you announce a wedding date.”
“How will you persuade Alan of the emergency?”
“Don’t worry about it, I shall find a way. In the meantime, of course, you will entirely ignore Max, apart from such civility as is customary toward a servant. If he should prevail upon you for more than that, you will call for assistance and accuse him of familiarity, and he will be dismissed.”
“I wish you would dismiss him anyway. I find the very thought of him offensive now.”
“I dare say you do. I find it hard to understand how you ever found it anything else. But unfortunately it is not so easy to bury our mistakes. Max has taken steps to see that I do not, and I have not yet thought of a way round them; but I shall. Now consider your future, and behave with your utmost charm; you have exercised yourself to enchant men well enough in the past. Do not overdo it; Alan, like most men, will wish to believe he has done the choosing and the pursuing himself. Allow him to persist in that belief. And wear pink as often as may be. It becomes you, and men like it.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Good. Now compose yourself, and let us direct out efforts to that end.”
“Yes, Mama.”
The following morning Augusta was late over breakfast, which was most unusual for her. She had slept badly. The whole business with Max had distressed her more than she had realized at the time. Perhaps her mastery of herself was not as perfect as she believed. She was still at the breakfast table at half past nine when Brandy came back for another cup of tea. He sat down opposite her, looking at her closely.