Anne Perry - Callander Square

He sighed very slowly. “I have already been to see Sir Robert Carlton. That is where I was when you came. He will speak to the Home Secretary tomorrow.”

The smile started in her eyes and her mouth till it seemed to fill all of her, even to the way she stood, very straight, but with a grace, an ease to the line of her body.

“I am glad,” she said quietly. “I apologize for not having known that you would.” She gathered her cloak a little closer round her and moved past him.

He let her go, he was too full to speak. The compliment, the trust burned inside him more fiercely than in any sweet moment of youth.

He stood alone for a long time in the room before he finally sent for Brandy.

When Brandy came in he was ready for him.

“I have been this evening to see Robert Carlton,” he began straight away. “I persuaded him to speak to the Home Secretary to permit the police to continue to investigate the murders in the square, however long it may be, or however painful, before they discover the truth. Since Freddie Bolsover was a blackmailer, it is highly likely that was the motive for his death. The police will naturally have to pursue that-no, don’t interrupt me, Brandon. I am telling you because they will doubtless come to this house again. They are already aware of Christina’s folly with Max. If there is anything you have done that would make you vulnerable to pressure, I advise you to tell me now, and then the police. If it has nothing to do with Freddie, I daresay they will be discreet about it.”

“They already know,” Brandy replied soberly. “It seems they are extremely thorough, in everything except the actual murders! But thank you for the warning.” He looked away. “I’m glad you did that. Reggie accused Jemima of having blackmailed him, and then of having killed Freddie over the money. I intend to see him in hell for that.”

“How do you know?” Balantyne demanded.

Brandy looked back at him.

“Inspector Pitt told me. I’m sorry about that, Father.” Then sensing Balantyne’s embarrassment, he spoke quite casually. “Do you want to see Mother? You’d better warn her as well, she does rather tend to take things into her own hands!”

Balantyne winced at the memory of Max. He did not really want to see Augusta tonight. There was a lot he wished to say to her, but not yet. Presently, perhaps, when he better understood himself.

“No, thank you,” he replied. “You can tell her, if you don’t mind. I don’t think it will be necessary to warn her, but it would be a courtesy.”

Brandy hesitated a moment, then smiled.

“Right,” he turned and went to the door. “Thank you for not exploding over Jemima. I mean to marry her, if she’ll have me. I dare say Mother won’t be pleased, but she’ll accommodate it in time, if you do.”

“I didn’t say-!” but Brandy was gone, and there was nothing for Balantyne to do but stare at the door after him. Perhaps it was not such a monstrous thought; it was not as if she were a servant, indeed she was not so very unlike Charlotte-but that was another dream he would prefer not to contemplate tonight.

It was after lunch the next day when he saw Alan Ross at his club. Quite naturally, since Alan was both friend and son-in-law, he went over to speak to him.

“Afternoon, Alan, how are you? Christina well?”

“Good afternoon, sir. Yes, in fine health, thank you. And you?”

“Excellent.” What a stilted conversation. Why could he not say what he meant? Had he not learned that much at least from Charlotte? “No, that’s not true. You heard about Freddie Bolsover?”

Ross frowned.

“Yes. Somebody spoke of blackmail; is that true?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. There’s been a concerted effort round the square to stop the police from investigating it any further, for fear of digging up a lot of scandal, I presume, although of course those are not the motives given. I suppose everyone has something they would prefer not known; something sordid, or foolish, or just acutely private.”

Ross made a small face of agreement. Then he looked up as if he had thought of something to say. Balantyne waited, but apparently the words eluded him. They spoke of trivialities for a little while, then Balantyne drew them back to Callander Square, feeling Ross still wished to speak to him.

Again Ross hesitated.

“Is there something you know that I don’t?” Balantyne asked quietly, commanding Ross’s attention with his eyes.

“No,” Ross shook his head, a tiny, rueful smile at the corner of his mouth. “It is something we both know; but I imagine you are not aware of it.”

Balantyne was puzzled, but he had as yet no sense of misgiving.

“Then if I already know, why are you having such difficulty finding the words for it?” he asked. “And why the need to speak of it at all?”

For the first time Ross really met his eyes, without veil or deception.

“Because you may otherwise go to some lengths to keep it from me.”

Balantyne stared.

“Christina,” Ross replied. “I am perfectly aware of her liaison with Max, and the reason for her somewhat precipitate pursuit of me. No, there’s no need to look like that. I knew at the time. I don’t mind. I loved Helena, and I shall never love anyone else. I have a high regard for you; and, it may surprise you, for Lady Augusta also. I was quite willing to be of use to Christina. I shall never love her, but I shall be a good husband to her; and I intend to see that she is a good wife to me: as good as our feelings, or lack of them, will permit. There is still an honorable way to behave, love or not.” He looked down for a moment, then up again. “What I am trying to say is that there is no need to fear my hearing of the affair and treating Christina any differently.” The smile warmed his eyes. “Also, I am very fond of Brandy. Although he has tended to avoid me since my engagement. I think perhaps his conscience is affecting him. He was not born for deceit and it sits ill with him.”

Balantyne would have defended himself against the implication of his own deceit, but it was true and he had no defense; and also there was no criticism in Ross’s face. He had a sudden feeling that Ross was a better man than Christina deserved, a man he both liked and respected himself.

“Thank you,” he said warmly. “You could well have let me stew in fear, even betray myself, and have been justified. It is a great kindness that you do not. I hope in time you will learn to forgive us, not only in charity, but in understanding; although I have no right to ask.”

“I might well have done the same,” Ross brushed it away. “Might yet, if I have children. Join me in a glass of claret?”

“Thank you,” Balantyne accepted with real pleasure, and a sense of ease inside himself. “Yes, I will.”

When Pitt was called again to Colonel Anstruther’s presence he was surprised and relieved to be told that there had been a change of directive from the Home Office, and he was to proceed with his inquiries into all the matters to do with Callander Square. He was surprised, because he had not expected a change of heart, not knowing Charlotte had visited General Balantyne, nor expecting there to have been any results had he been fully conversant with it; and relieved because he had had every intention of pursuing it to the last clue whatever anyone said. Although of course it would have had to be done in roundabout fashion, and largely in his own time, both of which would have been awkward. He did not wish to run the risk of serious demotion for disobedience, and he would very much rather have spent such free time as he had at home with Charlotte, particularly now when she had but four months to go till the birth of their first child.

Therefore it was with a feeling almost of excitement that he ran down the steps and hailed a cab to take him, post haste, back to Callander Square.