Anne Perry - Traitors Gate

“Rubbish,” she said with a smile. “You have something to tell me. It is on the tip of your tongue. What is it?”

“Nothing specific, I assure you,” he reiterated. “Are you still engaged in fighting for social reforms?” He leaned back in the chair at last and crossed his hands over his stomach.

She found his manner irritating, but perhaps that was more due to memory than anything in the present. It had been his intolerable bullying and insensitivity which had at least in part precipitated the tragedy which had overtaken the whole family in Cardington Crescent. Only afterwards had he been even touched with the slightest perception of his own part in it. For a brief period he had been bewildered and ashamed. It had passed rapidly, and now he was fully back to his original ebullience and the total conviction that he was right in all his major beliefs and opinions. Like many people of intense physical energy and good health, he had an ability to forget the past and proceed with the present.

Nevertheless, she found his attitude patronizing, like that of a benevolent schoolmaster.

“Now and then,” she replied coolly. “I have also entertained myself with renewing some old acquaintances.” She did not tell him that the principal among these was Thelonius Quade, a high court judge some twenty years her junior, who had in the past been an ardent admirer, deeply in love with her. The friendship, reawoken, was increasingly precious to her. That was something she did not wish to share with Eustace. “And also there are Thomas Pitt’s cases,” she added truthfully, although she knew Eustace would not like it. Apart from its being socially unacceptable to involve oneself with the police, it would far more piquantly bring back his own memories, griefs, and probably even guilt.

“I think that is rather unsuitable, Mama-in-law,” he said with a frown. “Especially when there is so much that is worthy to be done. I have never minded your eccentricities now and then, but …” He stopped. Vespasia’s eyes froze him and the rest of his sentence died on his lips.

“How generous of you,” she said icily.

“What I mean is-”

“I know what you mean, Eustace. This whole conversation is unnecessary. I know what you wish to say, and you know what my reply will be. You do not approve of my friendship with Thomas and Charlotte, still less of my assisting them now and again. I have every intention of continuing, and do not consider it to be any of your concern.” She smiled at him very slightly. “Shall we proceed from there? Do you have some particular worthy cause in mind in which you think I should be involved?”

“Now that you mention it …” He recovered his composure almost immediately. It was a quality in him she both admired and found intensely irritating. He was like one of those toys with a round, weighted base which one cannot knock over because automatically it rights itself the moment you let go of it.

“Yes?”

His face lit with enthusiasm again. “I have recently been permitted to join a most exclusive organization,” he said eagerly. “I say ‘permitted’ because members are accepted only when proposed by another member and closely examined by a selection committee. It is entirely charitable of course, with the highest possible aims.”

She waited, trying to keep her mind open to hear all he said. There were, after all, a legion of societies in London, most of them excellent in their purposes.

He crossed his legs, his face supremely satisfied. He had rather round, hazel-gray eyes, and they were shining with enthusiasm.

“Because all the members are men of means and in many cases considerable power in the community, in the world of finance or government, a great deal can be accomplished. Even laws changed, if it is desirable.” His voice rose with the vigor of his feelings. “Enormous amounts of money can be raised to aid the poor, the disadvantaged, those suffering from injustices, disease or other misfortune. It is really very exciting, Mama-in-law. I feel highly privileged to be a member.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“It sounds most praiseworthy. Perhaps I should join? Could you propose me?”

She watched his face with amusement. His mouth fell open, and his eyes reflected utter confusion. He was not even sure whether she was indulging in some distasteful joke. He had never been entirely certain of her sense of humor.

She waited, regarding him without a flicker.

“Mama-in-law, no serious society I know of accepts women! You must surely be aware of that?”

“Why not?” she asked. “I have money, no husband I am obliged to obey, and I am as capable of doing good as anyone else.”

“That is not the point!” he protested.

“Oh. What is the point?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What is the point?” she repeated.

Eustace was saved from justifying what to him was an assumption about the nature of the universe which was as beyond questioning as it was beyond explanation. The parlormaid came in to say that Mrs. Pitt had arrived.

“Oh, good gracious. Thank you, Effie,” Vespasia said, acknowledging her. “I had not realized it was so late. Please ask her to come in.” She turned back to Eustace. “Charlotte will accompany me while we take our cards to the Duchess of Marlborough.”

“Charlotte will?” Eustace was dumbfounded. “To the Duchess of Marlborough? Really, this is preposterous, Mama-in-law! She is utterly unsuitable. Heaven knows what she might say or do. Surely you’re not serious.”

“I am perfectly serious. Thomas has been promoted since you last saw him. He is now a superintendent.”

“I don’t care if he is commissioner of Scotland Yard!” Eustace said. “You still cannot have Charlotte call upon the Duchess of Marlborough!”

“We are not going to call upon her,” Vespasia said patiently. “We are simply going to leave our cards, which, as you know as well as I do, is customary after attending a function. It is the accepted way of expressing our appreciation.”

“‘Our appreciation’! Charlotte was there?” He was still completely nonplussed.

“She was.”

The door opened and Charlotte was shown in. As soon as she saw Eustace March her face registered a conflicting mixture of emotions-surprise, anger, self-consciousness-all overridden by curiosity.

Eustace’s feelings were much plainer. There was nothing in his face but a pure and simple embarrassment. He rose to his feet, his cheeks flaming.

“What a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Pitt, how are you?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. March.” She swallowed hard and came forward.

Vespasia could guess what manner of event she was remembering, most probably the ridiculous episode under the bed. No doubt, from the scarlet in Eustace’s cheeks, so was he.

“I am in excellent health, thank you,” she added. “I am sure that you are also.” That may have been a memory of his ever open windows in Cardington Crescent, even on cloudy mornings when the wind blew the breakfast room to almost intolerable temperatures, and everyone except Eustace was shivering over the porridge.

“Always, Mrs. Pitt,” Eustace said briskly. “I am blessed in that manner.”

“Eustace has been telling me about an excellent society he has been privileged to join,” Vespasia said, indicating a chair for Charlotte.

“Ah-yes,” Eustace agreed. “Dedicated to works of charity, and to influencing society for good.”

“Congratulations,” Charlotte said wholeheartedly. “You must feel a great sense of achievement. It is certainly sorely needed.”

“Oh indeed.” He resumed his own seat, sounding far more relaxed. He was back to discussing a subject which obviously pleased him enormously. “Indeed, Mrs. Pitt. It is most gratifying to feel that one can join with other men of like mind and dedication to the same purposes, and together we can be a real force in the land.”