"Well, out with it then, Trumper," I said.
"It's not that easy, to be honest, sir," he replied, so I remained silent in the hope that it might help him relax and get whatever it was off his chest.
"It's Becky, sir," he blurted out eventually.
"First-class girl," I assured him.
"Yes, sir, I agree. But I'm afraid she's pregnant."
I confess that I had already learned this news some days before from Becky herself, but as I had given the lady my word not to tell anyone, including Charlie, I feigned surprise. Although I realize times have changed, I knew Becky had been strictly brought up and in any case she had never struck me as that sort of girl, if you know what I mean.
"Of course, you'll want to know who the father is," Charlie added.
"I had assumed—" I began, but Charlie immediately shook his head.
"Not me," he said. "I only wish it was. Then at least I could marry her and wouldn't have to bother you with the problem."
"Then who is the culprit?" I asked.
He hesitated before saying, "Guy Trentham, sir."
"Captain Trentham? But he's in India, if I remember correctly."
"That's right, sir. And I've had the devil's own job persuading Becky to write and let him know what's happened; she says it would only ruin his career."
"But not telling him could well ruin her whole life," I suggested testily. Just imagine the stigma of being an unmarried mother, not to mention having to bring up an illegitimate child. "In any case, Trentham's bound to find out eventually, don't you know."
"He may never learn the truth from Becky, and I certainly don't have the sort of influence that would make him do the decent thing."
"Are you holding anything else back about Trentham that I ought to know about, Trumper?"
"No, sir."
Trumper replied a little too quickly for me to be totally convinced.
"Then you'll have to leave the problem of Trentham to me," I told him. "Meanwhile you get on with running the shops. But be sure to let me know the moment it's all out in the open so I don't go around looking as if I haven't a clue what's going on." I rose to leave.
"The whole world will know before much longer," Charlie said.
I had said "leave the problem to me" without the slightest idea of what I was going to do about it, but when I had returned home that night I discussed the whole affair with Elizabeth. She advised me to have a chat with Daphne, who she felt confident would know considerably more about what was going on than Charlie did. I suspected she was right.
Elizabeth and I duly invited Daphne to tea at Tregunter Road a couple of days later. She confirmed everything Charlie had said and was also able to fill in one or two missing pieces of the jigsaw.
In Daphne's opinion Trentham had been Becky's first serious romance, and certainly to her knowledge Becky had never slept with any other man before they had met, and only once with Trentham. Captain Trentham, she assured us, was unable to boast the same blameless reputation.
The rest of her news did not augur well for a simple solution, as it turned out that Guy's mother could not be relied on to insist that her son do the decent thing by Becky. On the contrary, Daphne knew the woman was already preparing the ground to ensure that no one could possibly believe that Trentham could be in any way responsible.
"But what about Trentham's father?" I asked. "Do you think I should have a word with him? Although we were in the same regiment we were never in the same battalion, don't you know."
"He's the only member of that family I really care for," Daphne admitted. "He's the MP for Berkshire West, a Liberal."
"Then that has to be my approach route," I replied. "I can't abide the man's politics, but that won't stop him from knowing the difference between right and wrong."
Yet another letter sent on club notepaper elicited an immediate reply from the major, inviting me to drinks at Chester Square the following Monday.
I arrived punctually at six, and was taken into the drawing room where I was greeted by a quite charming lady who introduced herself as Mrs. Trentham. She was not at all what I expected after Daphne's description; in fact she was a rather handsome woman. She was profuse in her apologies: it seemed that her husband had been held up at the House of Commons by a running three-line whip, which even I knew meant he was unable to leave the Palace of Westminster on pain of death. I made an instant decision—wrongly I realize in retrospect—that this matter couldn't wait a moment longer and I must relay my message to the major through his wife.
"I find this is all rather embarrassing actually," I began.
"Do feel free to speak quite openly, Colonel. I can assure you that I am fully in my husband's confidence. We have no secrets from each other."
"Well, to be frank with you, Mrs. Trentham, the matter I wish to touch on concerns your son Guy."
"I see" was all she said.
"And his fiancée, Miss Salmon."
"She is not, and never has been, his fiancée," said Mrs. Trentham, her voice revealing a sudden edge.
"But I was given to understand—"
"That promises were made to Miss Salmon by my son? I can assure you, Colonel, that nothing could be further from the truth."
Slightly taken aback, I was unable to think of a diplomatic way of letting the lady know the real purpose behind my wanting to see her husband. So I simply said, "Whatever promises were or were not made, madam, I do feel that you and your husband should be aware that Miss Salmon is expecting a child."
"And what has that to do with me?" Mrs. Trentham stared directly at me with no fear showing in her eyes.
"Simply that your son is undoubtedly the father."
"We only have her word for that, Colonel."
"That, madam, was unworthy of you," I told her. "I know Miss Salmon to be a thoroughly decent and honest girl. And in any case, if it were not your son, who else could it have possibly been?"
"Heaven knows," said Mrs. Trentham. "Any number of men, I would have thought, judging by her reputation. After all, her father was an immigrant."
"So was the King's father, madam," I reminded her. "But he still would have known how to conduct himself had he been faced with the same predicament."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Colonel."
"I mean, madam, that your son must either marry Miss Salmon or at least resign from the regiment and make suitable arrangements to see the child is properly provided for."
"It seems I must make it clear to you once again, Colonel, that this sad state of affairs has nothing whatsoever to do with my son. I can assure you that Guy stopped seeing the girl some months before he sailed for India."
"I know that is not the case, madam, because—"
"Do you, Colonel? Then I must ask what exactly this whole business has to do with you in the first place?"
"Simply that Miss Salmon and Mr. Trumper are both colleagues of mine," I explained.
"I see," she said. "Then I suspect you will not have to look much further to discover who is the real father."
"Madam, that was also uncalled for. Charlie Trumper is not—"
"I cannot see any purpose in continuing this conversation, Colonel," Mrs. Trentham said, rising from her chair. She began to walk towards the door, not even bothering to glance in my direction. "I must warn you, Colonel, that should I hear this slander repeated in any quarter I shall not hesitate to instruct solicitors to take the necessary action to defend my son's good reputation."
Although shaken, I followed her into the hall, determined to see that the matter was not allowed to rest there. I now felt Major Trentham was my only hope. As Mrs. Trentham opened the front door to show me out I said firmly, "May I presume, madam, that you will recount this conversation faithfully to your husband?"