Callander Square - Anne Perry [96]
She called on Christina with no particular purpose in mind, except that she hoped to learn something further about Helena Doran. They had been much of an age, they were bound to have had a deal in common, attended the same parties, known the same people. She doubted they would have been friends then, and Christina might feel a little bitter about having just married a man whom everyone knew to have loved Helena, at least in the past. But she must know something; and frequently as much truth was spoken in dislike as there ever was in friendship, especially of the dead. Funny how death seemed to obscure all the relevant truths in a sugar coating of decency. Must make detection very difficult.
Alan Ross’s house was in an elegant street less than half a mile from Callander Square. It could not claim the same opulence, nor the same fashionable grace, but it was a substantial establishment, and when Emily knocked she was admitted by a smart parlormaid.
Christina seemed quite pleased to see her, although Emily thought she looked a little pale. Honeymoons were very often something of a shock to a woman, but someone who had lain quite happily with a footman should not have encountered many surprises!
“Good afternoon, Emily,” Christina said a little formally. “How kind of you to call.”
Emily mentally crossed her fingers for lying.
“I wished to welcome you home, and to see how you were,” she said with a tone of concern. “After all, fortune has treated you most unkindly, I feel. It was a most wretched time for that poor girl to be discovered. It could hardly have been worse!”
Christina turned a very cold eye on her.
“Then it was a pity you chose that moment to go looking!”
“My dear,” Emily endeavored to look contrite, “how could I have imagined what I would find? I believed, like everyone else, that she had eloped with her lover, and was happily married somewhere—or married, at least. In truth I did not necessarily believe that it would be happy. These romantic things very seldom are.”
“So you said before. What on earth were you doing in that deserted garden anyway?”
“Just curiosity, I suppose,” Emily said idly, turning to admire the room, which indeed was handsome. “It was a romantic place—”
“A ruined garden, in the middle of winter!” Christina invested her voice with acid disbelief.
“It is not always the middle of winter, it only happens to be so now,” Emily said reasonably. “And the garden would have been far less ruined two years ago.”
“I fail to see your point,” Christina was decidedly cold.
“Why, when Helena met her lover there, of course!” Emily turned back. “What was she like? You must have known her. Was she very beautiful, very fascinating?”
“Not especially,” Christina affected some disdain. “She was pretty enough, in a rather anemic way; and she was certainly not witty, in fact I always thought her pleasant, but rather dull.”
“Oh dear,” Emily allowed her face to fall, although it cost some effort. Actually she was delighted, this was Christina’s genuine feeling, revealing as much about herself as about Helena Doran. “What a shame,” she continued. “She hardly sounds like the sort of woman to attract a romantic lover, unless he were a very callow sort. Unless, of course, she had hidden depths.”
“If she had, then they were very well hidden,” Christina snapped. “Nobody I knew ever found them!”
Emily had little compunction about being cruel.
”Not even Mr. Ross?” she inquired.
To her considerable surprise, Christina colored deeply.
“Alan is quite