Callander Square - Anne Perry [29]
And it was this that was worrying Reggie. Like most men, in his opinion, he availed himself of the odd pleasure with a handsome parlormaid. After all, what healthy man, woken in his bed in the morning by a young, clear-skinned, well-rounded wench bending over him, would not be tempted? And if she was willing, as they invariably were, why resist? His wife, Adelina, was well enough, and she had borne him three children, although unfortunately the boy had died. But she had taken no enjoyment in it; she suffered his advances with fortitude and did what she had been taught was her duty. Parlormaids enjoyed it, laughed, responded in a fashion that would have been unthinkable in a woman of quality.
Naturally one did not marry parlormaids. Everyone knew of such arrangements, but one conducted oneself discreetly. One did not wish to be the subject of gossip, nor to embarrass one’s wife. What was presumed and what was actually known were two entirely different things.
But as he had already realized, the police might fail to understand how these things were conducted to the satisfaction of all concerned. It would be very difficult if this Pitt fellow were to discover Reggie’s present taste for the parlormaid, Mary Ann. He might misconstrue it entirely. The girl was uncommonly handsome, quite the best looking Reggie could recall: and she had been in service in Callander Square for three years.
Great heavens! It wasn’t possible that she—actually—? Reggie broke out in a cold sweat, in spite of the fire. He took a rapid swig at the brandy and poured himself another. For pity’s sake, calm down, man! Remember the trim waist, the saucy bottom. She had not been with child in this house! Surely he could not be so unobservant as not to have noticed? She was a big girl. Would she have changed shape so obviously? He had to admit, he had been very spasmodic in his attentions. Sometimes he had been away for weeks at a time—but this was ridiculous! Someone would have noticed! He was worrying for nothing.
It was only a matter of making sure that the police did not leap to any foolish and entirely unwarranted conclusions. How intelligent was this chap, Pitt? Was he a man of the world? Some of the working classes could be appallingly narrow-minded: quite distressingly vulgar in their speech and eating, not to mention dress, but positive prudes when it came to personal liberty. It could be very trying having to deal with them. Pity the man in this case could not have been a gentleman, who would have understood; indeed, would not even have needed an explanation.
Better to forestall the whole business by seeing the others in the square who might be affected, and come to some understanding. Between them they ought to be able to keep this police fellow out of harm’s way, discreetly.
He had made up his mind to this, and was feeling considerably easier, when there was a knock on the door. He was surprised. Servants did not usually knock. If they had something to do, they simply came in and did it.
“Come in,” he answered, swiveling to face the entrance.
The door opened and the governess, Jemima, stood there.
Reggie sat up with a smile. Handsome girl, Jemima, though a bit on the thin side. He liked a rounder bosom, plumper shoulders; but there was a definite charm about her, a spirit in the way she held her head, a delicacy of bone. He had frequently been on the point of putting his arm round her in response to the inviting femininity of her slender back; but