Callander Square (8 page)

The door was answered by the footman Max.

“Good morning, Lady Ashworth,” he said, showing only the slightest surprise. His dark eyes flickered down her habit appreciatively, then up again to her face. She stared back at him coldly.

“Good morning. Is Miss Balantyne at home?”

“Yes, my lady. If you care to come in, I will tell her you are here.” He backed away, pulling the door wider. She followed him into the hall, and then into the morning room where there was already a fire burning.

“Can I bring you anything, ma’am?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” she replied, deliberately not looking at him.

He smiled very slightly, inclined his head, and left her alone.

She had been waiting about ten minutes and was beginning to become a little impatient when finally Christina came in. Emily turned to greet her, and was surprised to see her looking quite casual, almost disheveled. Her hair was less than perfectly done, there were dark wisps lopsidedly on her neck, and she looked unbecomingly pale.

“My dear, have I caught you at an inconvenient time?” Emily had nearly asked if she were unwell, then realized that to suggest someone looked ill was less than flattering, and she did not wish to jeopardize Christina’s somewhat tenuous friendship so soon.

“I confess,” Christina put her hand on the back of the chair and held it firmly, “I do not feel in the best of health this morning. Most unusual, for me.”

“Pray sit down,” Emily went toward her, taking her hand. “I do most sincerely hope it is but a passing indisposition, a slight chill, perhaps? After all, the change in the weather can so easily cause such things.” She was doubtful in her mind as she said it. Christina was an extremely healthy girl and she showed none of the signs of a chill, no rasping in the throat, no running nose or feverishness.

Christina slid into the chair. She looked uncommonly pale and there were the faintest of beads of perspiration on her skin.

“Perhaps a little tisane?” Emily suggested. “I’ll call the footman.”

Christina protested and shook her head, but Emily had already rung the bell. She stood by it, and when Max appeared she spoke over Christina’s head to him.

“Miss Balantyne is feeling a little unwell. Will you please have cook brew her a tisane, and send it up?”

The man’s heavy eyes looked across at Christina and Emily caught the glance. He looked away quickly and retreated to obey.

“I am sorry to have found you so,” Emily said with the best mixture of cheerfulness and sympathy she could manage. “I only came to tell you the name of the dressmaker you were inquiring for. I managed to persuade her to consider us both, although she is in the most absolute demand. She has such skill in cutting she can make even the ugliest creatures look graceful,” she smiled at Christina’s white face. “And meticulous at finishing off, no threads or half-stitched buttons. And she is so clever at designing she can hide a few extra inches so one’s own mother would not know one had put on weight.”

Christina blushed suddenly and deeply.

“What on earth are you suggesting? I am not putting on weight,” she crossed her hands over her stomach.

Emily’s mind raced.

“You’re lucky,” she said lightly. “I fear I always do in the winter.” It was a complete fabrication. “It happens without fail,” she went on. “It must be all the hot puddings and things. And I have a dreadful weakness for chocolate sauce.”

“If you will excuse me,” Christina climbed to her feet, still clutching her hands in front of herself. “I think I had better go upstairs. The mention of food has made me feel quite sick. I would be obliged if you would not tell Max. Drink the tisane yourself, if you wish.”

“Oh my dear!” Emily caught hold of her. “I’m so sorry. Let me help you, you are in no condition to be by yourself. I shall assist you at least to your rooms, and your maid can wait upon you. Shall I have someone call for the doctor?”

“No!” Christina was fierce, her eyes blazing. “I am perfectly well. It is nothing of any import. Perhaps something I have eaten does not entirely agree with me. Pray do not mention the matter. I would take it as a true sign of your friendship if you were to treat the whole incident in complete confidence,” she put out a cold little hand and grabbed Emily hard.

“Of course,” Emily reassured her. “I shall not mention it. One does not wish one’s indispositions discussed about the place. The matter is quite private.”

“Thank you.”

“Now you must come upstairs,” Emily guided her across the hall and up the wide staircase till they met her lady’s maid on the upstairs landing, who took charge of Christina.

Emily had come down again and reached as far as the hall when she was nearly brushed aside by a tall man, broad-shouldered and wide-chested, who swept by her.

“Perkins!” he shouted angrily. “Perkins, damn it!”

Emily stood stock still.

He swung round and saw her. He opened his mouth as if to shout again, then realized she was not the errant Perkins. His face was striking, with a great deal of bone. Now he colored faintly at having made an exhibition of himself. He raised his head still higher.

“Good morning, ma’am. May I be of some assistance? For whom were you looking?”

“General Balantyne?” she asked with magnificent composure.

“At your service,” he said stiffly, his temper barely beneath the surface.

Emily smiled with devastating charm.

“Emily Ashworth,” she extended her hand. “I came to see Miss Balantyne, but she is a trifle indisposed this morning, so I shall take my leave. Have you lost a butler? I believe I saw him depart in that direction,” she pointed vaguely behind her. It was an invention, but she wished to appear helpful, and if possible even to engage him in some slight conversation.

“No. Housemaid. Damn woman always moving my papers. Actually I can’t remember if her name is Perkins or not, but Augusta always calls downstairs housemaids Perkins, whatever they call themselves.”

“Papers?” The beginning of an utterly brilliant idea was forming in Emily’s mind. “Are you engaged upon writing something?”

“A family history, ma’am. The Balantynes have fought in all the great battles of the nation from the last two hundred years or so.”

Emily breathed out, trying with all her considerable acting skill to invest her bearing with interest. Actually warfare bored her to tears; but she must make some intelligent remark.

“How very important,” she replied. “The history of our men of war is the history of our race.” She was proud of that, it was an excellent observation.

He looked at her narrowly.

“You are the first woman I have met to consider it so.”

“From my sister,” she said quickly. “My sister has always had an interest in such things. I learned from her of its great importance. One does not realize—but I keep you from your work. If I cannot help, I must at least not hinder. You should have someone to assist you, keep your papers in order, someone who understands such things to dust and care for your study, and perhaps take notes, should you not? Or maybe you have?”

“If I had, ma’am, I should not now be searching for some housemaid to see what she has done with them!”

“Do you think such a person might be of service to you?” She put her utmost effort into appearing quite casual.

“To find a woman who had any sense of military history would not only be extremely fortunate, ma’am, but even more would it be unlikely.”

“My sister is most competent, sir,” she assured him, “and as I have said, has a longstanding interest in things of a military nature. My father, naturally, did not approve, so she has not been able to indulge it as her nature inclined. However, I am sure there would be no disapproval if she were to spend a little time being of assistance to someone such as yourself.” Of course she had no intention of telling him Charlotte was married to a policeman.

He stared at her. A lesser woman than Emily might well have quailed before him.

“Indeed. Well, if it meets with your father’s approval, I daresay it might prove of assistance to me. I pray you, raise the matter to him, and see if she is agreeable. If she is, she may call upon me, and we shall arrange some terms satisfactory to us both. I am obliged to you—Miss—” he had forgotten her name.

“Ashworth,” Emily smiled again. “Lady Ashworth.”

“Lady Ashworth,” he bowed very slightly. “Good day to you, ma’am.”

Emily dropped a tiny curtsey and hurried out in an ecstasy of delight.

She climbed straight into the carriage and commanded the driver to take her post haste to Charlotte’s house. It mattered not a pin what time of the morning it was; she must deliver herself of her plans, and fully instruct Charlotte in her future part in them.

She had totally forgotten Charlotte’s warning to her, and her promise.

“I have been to Callander Square this morning!” she said the instant Charlotte opened the door. She swept past her and into the parlor, swinging round to face her sister. “I have learned the most incredible things! For a start, Christina Balantyne is indisposed, nausea at this time in the morning! And she nearly bit my head off when I suggested she might put on weight. She begged me to say nothing of it to anyone! Implored me! What do you think of it, Charlotte? True or not, whatever the fact, I can see well enough what it is she fears! It can be only one thing. And she would not permit me to call a doctor.”

Charlotte was pale. She stood just inside the door, her eyes wide.

“Emily, you promised!”

Emily had no idea what she meant.

“You promised!” Charlotte said fiercely. “What do you imagine the Balantynes will do if they discover you know such a thing? From what you said of Lady Augusta, she will hardly sit by and allow you to ruin Christina! Have you no sense at all? I shall tell George myself, and perhaps he will be able to prevent you from being so idiotic!”

Emily waved her aside.

“Oh for goodness’ sake, Charlotte; do you imagine I don’t know how to conduct myself socially? I have climbed far higher than you ever will. Mostly, of course, because you won’t exert yourself. But do you imagine that because you won’t keep your opinions to yourself that I cannot, if I wish? I can lie so that Mr. Pitt would not know it, and certainly not Augusta Balantyne. I have no intention of ruining either myself, or George.

“Now please pay attention to what I have been telling you about Christina! I have no idea who the man may be; but while I was there an opportunity arose, and I had the most brilliant idea. Naturally I seized upon it immediately. General Balantyne is writing a military history of his family, of which he seems to be extraordinarily proud. He needs some help to keep himself organized, take notes, and so forth.” She stopped for a moment to draw breath, her eyes on Charlotte. For the first time she actually considered the possibility that Charlotte might refuse.

“Well?” Charlotte said with a slight frown. “I cannot see what General Balantyne’s military memoirs have to do with Christina’s fears.”

“Why, they are the perfect answer!” Emily banged her hand on her skirt in frustration at Charlotte’s obtuseness. “I have volunteered that you will go and help him with his papers! You are the ideal person. You even like military matters—you can remember who fought whom, in which battles, while most of us cannot even recall why, and certainly don’t care. You must go and—”

Charlotte’s face had fallen in incredulity.

“Emily, you must have lost your senses! I cannot possibly go and—and work for General Balantyne! It would be preposterous!” But even as she was saying it, her voice was slowing down, the outrage slipping out of it. Emily knew that in spite of her words, she had not at all dismissed the idea, in fact she was, in framing its very ridiculousness to herself, turning over in her mind the faint possibility of accepting it.

“Thomas would never permit it,” Charlotte said carefully.

“Why not?”

“It would be—unseemly.”

“Why? You do not need to take any payment for it, if it is beneath his dignity for you to do so. All he needs to know is that you are helping a friend, and at the same time pursuing your own interest. And who knows what you may discover? You will actually be in the house, day by day!”

Charlotte opened her mouth to protest again, but her eyes were looking beyond Emily, into the distance of her imagination, and there was a deep light in them. Emily knew she had won, and there was no time for decorating the victory.

“I shall call for you tomorrow morning at half past nine. Wear your best dark dress, that wine one, it is new enough, and the color becomes you—”

“I am not going in order to engage his attentions, Emily!” Charlotte made a last, automatic protest.

“Don’t be obtuse, Charlotte. Every woman, if she succeeds at anything, does so by engaging some man’s attentions. Anyway, whatever your purpose is, it can hardly hurt!”

“Emily, you are a thoroughly conniving creature.”

“So are you, you are just afraid to admit it to yourself.” She stood up. “I must go. I have other calls to make. Please be ready at half past nine in the morning. Tell Pitt what you please.” She blinked. “By the way, naturally I did not tell General Balantyne you were married to a policeman, much less the officer investigating the affair in the gardens. I said you were my sister, so you had better be Miss Ellison again.” She swept out before Charlotte could register any protest, although in fact Charlotte was too entertained with the idea to seek objections, and was already busy considering the most judicious explanation to offer Pitt, and how best she might satisfy General Balantyne as to her competence.

The following morning as Charlotte was surveying herself in the mirror, adjusting her dress for the tenth time and making sure yet again that her hair was both tidy and at the same time shown to its best advantage, Augusta Balantyne was staring across the breakfast table at her husband.

“Do I understand you correctly, Brandon, that you have engaged some young woman of indeterminate background and restricted means to come into this house and assist you in these family memoirs you are—” her voice froze, “occupied with?”

“No, you do not understand me, Augusta,” he replied over his cup. “Lady Ashworth, whom I gather to be a friend of yours, recommended her sister to me as a woman of intelligence and propriety, who would be willing to put my papers in order and take some notes, as I may dictate them. You will not be required to entertain her socially: though why the matter should concern you, I don’t know. She could not possibly be either plainer or more foolish than some of the women you have in here.”