Callander Square - Anne Perry [85]
“Freddie?” There was steel in Campbell’s voice, a quite different tone. His face had stiffened, even his body. “Freddie Bolsover?”
“Yes! Damned Freddie Bolsover. Came to my house as cool as you please, sat in my chair in the library and drank my port, and asked me for a hundred pounds to keep quiet about my fondness for the parlormaid!”
“And you paid him?” Campbell’s eyebrows rose and his eyes were full of cynical disbelief, and something that looked like amusement. Although God knew what there was to be amused at!
“Of course I paid him!” Reggie spat out furiously. “What do you think the police would make of it if they knew I had a fondness for parlormaids, with those wretched bodies in the square? They might even think I had something to do with Helena Doran, and so help me God, I never touched the girl! Little harmless fun with a few maids, but never anything really wrong! But can’t expect those bounders to know that! They’re only working class themselves!”
Campbell looked at him down his long nose.
“Yes, you’re in something of a spot, aren’t you?” He finished pouring the port at last and handed Reggie one. “Although I shouldn’t think anyone could connect you with Helena,” he hesitated, “could they?”
“No!”
“Then I don’t know why you’re so excited. What can Freddie say? That he thinks you had a bit of a toss with your parlormaid? That’s hardly damning. And how in hell would he know, anyway? Does he listen to kitchen gossip? You were a fool to pay.”
Reggie squirmed in his chair. It was Dolly and her death after the wretched abortion that he was frightened of—Mary Ann was neither here nor there, as Campbell had said. He looked at Campbell now, standing in the middle of the room, broad-shouldered, solid-bellied, a slight sneer on his face. He was clever, Reggie knew that, he had always known it; it was one of those obvious things, inescapable. But dare he trust him? He had to have help from someone. Freddie had to be stopped, otherwise he would rob him of everything that made life of value! Feed off him, like some disgusting animal, take all his comfort, and he could end up a frightened wreck drinking soda water and eating bread and mincemeat. He would sooner be dead!
He did not know how to begin.
Campbell was waiting, staring at him, his eyes still smiling.
“It’s rather more than that,” Reggie began. “They might think—”
Campbell’s mouth twisted at the corners.
“—I mean,” Reggie tried again, “other maids, they might—” Damn the man. Why would he not understand?
“—they might think you had something to do with Dolly’s death?” Campbell finished for him.
Reggie felt the ice run through him as if his valet had accidentally run him a cold bath.
Campbell was looking at him with a cynical amusement.
“Yes, that could be embarrassing,” he said thoughtfully. “Freddie was the doctor called in, wasn’t he? Yes, he could probably tell the police precisely what happened. And I suppose he might well feel excused of his usual obligations of silence,” he coughed, “under the circumstances. Perhaps you were right to pay, after all.”
“God damn it!” Reggie heaved himself out of the chair onto his feet till he stood facing Campbell. “That’s no help! What am I going to do?”
Campbell stuck out his lower lip.
“Keep control of yourself, for a start. I agree entirely, old boy. It’s bad: very bad. No idea Freddie had it in him.”
“He’s a complete outsider,” Reggie said bitterly. “A bounder.”
“Doubtless, but that only means he’s the nerve and the wit to do what many others would, if they dared, and had thought of it. Don’t be such a hypocrite, Reggie. This is hardly the time to become self-righteous; apart from being a trifle ridiculous, it’s of no use.”
“Use?” Reggie was flabbergasted. Freddie was a total cad, and here was Campbell talking about it as if it were an everyday occurrence: a problem of logistics rather than an outrage.
“Yes, of course ‘use,’” Campbell said a little tartly. “You do want to prevent it continuing indefinitely, I