“But, Papa-” A shadow darkened Christina’s face. Was it pain or merely irritation? “At least he must have been exciting when he was young, when he was in the army, fighting?”
“My dear girl, how many times do you think I wish to hear the exact detail of the disposition of the guns at Balaclava-or anywhere else? He considered it disloyal to talk about other officers’ faults or ambitions, and vulgar to discuss their love affairs in front of women. Good God! There were times when he bored me till if I had not been a lady I would have screamed at him and slapped his face out of sheer desire to jolt him out of his damned satisfaction! But it would have served no purpose at all. He would not have understood. He would merely have thought I was having hysterics, and ordered me rest and a soothing tisane. So I learned to adjust my expression to look interested and to occupy my mind with something else. A little self-discipline would improve you a great deal, and would provide a rather better understanding of what is really important to you to keep. Alan spoils you-”
“Spoils me? He provides everything I need and then treats me like a social entity, someone to be polite to!” Christina’s face flushed with temper. “He is so pious he is insufferable! He should have married a nun! Sometimes I wonder if he has any passion in him at all-real passion!”
Augusta felt a stab of pity and dismissed it. This was not the time. “Do not confuse passion with mere excitement,” she said coolly. “Excitement is like playing cards for matchsticks-win, lose, or draw, you have nothing left at the end but a pile of splinters.”
Christina’s face set, her chin hard. “Don’t patronize me! I shall do as I choose.”
Augusta changed her approach. “Do you read the newspapers?”
“What of it? If Alan doesn’t mind, it is none of your concern.”
“Then you cannot be unaware that there have been two particularly unpleasant murders in the Devil’s Acre,” Augusta continued.
The color faded from Christina’s cheeks. Max Burton had been footman in the house before she had married Alan Ross. It hurt Augusta to have to recall anything of that painful affair, but Christina’s present foolishness, and now her stubbornness in denying it, left her no alternative. “One of the victims used to be employed as a servant in our house.”
“I know,” Christina said quietly. She took a shaky breath. “It is extremely unpleasant.”
“The police are investigating both crimes.”
“Naturally. Although I cannot see what good it will do. Every so often, people like that are bound to get murdered. I don’t suppose there is the slightest chance they will ever discover who did it, and why hardly matters. I really cannot believe they care-they have to go through the motions because it is expected of them.”
“Doubtless. But that is not the point. It is Inspector Pitt who will try-do you remember Pitt?”
Christina winced.
“There are houses in that quarter,” Augusta continued, “where wealthy women occasionally find themselves some diversion. I dare say it offers them a certain thrill to enter into a world of filth and danger. Perhaps their own looks the sweeter after it?”
Christina’s eyes were hard and angry, her skin tight across the cheekbones. “I have no idea!”
Augusta sighed. “Don’t pretend to be stupid, Christina. And, above all, do not pretend that I am! Alan may prefer to affect ignorance of a great deal that you do-indeed, he appears to be remarkably patient. But he cannot ignore scandal-no one can. The Devil’s Acre will come under very close scrutiny. These crimes have shocked people-and, since Pinchin was relatively respectable, frightened them as well. If you cannot control your taste for slumming, you must do it elsewhere. Although you would be very wise not to do it at all. London is much smaller than you think-you cannot be anonymous for long. Your lady friends will not frequent these gambling houses or music halls, but their husbands might well. What is a dangerous adventure for you is merely a lark for them-”
“Hypocrites!” Christina spat out.
“My dear girl, stop behaving like a child. You are too old for it. Naivete excusable at twenty is boring at twenty-five, and at thirty it becomes ridiculous. You stand in danger of losing your reputation. Take a great deal of thought as to what that means!”
“On the contrary, I am very popular and considered most entertaining!”
“So are buffoons and whores! Do you wish to be one of them?”
Christina’s face was very white. “I’m sorry you imagine I go to cheap music halls, Mama. I have never entered one in my life, so I cannot say what they offer. But if I wished to gamble, there are plenty of perfectly respectable houses where I could do so. And I do not need to find myself a lover-I have more offers than I can entertain!”
Augusta was unimpressed. She had seen Christina’s wounded dignity before. “Do you indeed? Are you telling me you have not been to the Devil’s Acre?”
“I had no intention of discussing it with you at all!”
The matter was too urgent for Augusta to lose her temper. She did not wish to tell Christina that she had learned through an old servant’s loyalty of her trips to the slums under the shadows of Westminster. It would jeopardize the servant’s post-but, more practical than that, it would remove her own source of information, and with Christina so rash there was only Augusta to protect her.
“No doubt,” she said tartly. “Which is why it is just as well I am aware of it for myself. You were seen. You must stop immediately.”
Christina was frightened now. Augusta had known her too long to be deceived by the arrogant stance, the squared shoulders under the thick satin. Good heavens-she was still so much of a child, as feckless as a summer day. So little thought of consequences. She saw what she wanted and reached for it. Where on earth had she come by such abandon? It was certainly not her father! He had never done anything emotionally prodigal in his life-would to God he had! And Augusta had always had enough strength of will at least to be discreet. She knew the line between pleasure and duty and would walk it with an acrobat’s balance. Why was Christina such a fool?
“Really-you try my patience!” she said furiously. “Sometimes you don’t seem to have retained the wits you were born with!”
“If you’ve never had an affair worth a damn, then I’m sorry for you!” Christina was shouting now, pouring all her frustration, her hunger, and her pride into a burning contempt for what she considered a lesser woman. “I went to the Acre to a house owned by a friend of mine. And yes, I did go there to meet a lover. But you won’t tell Alan that because you want to ruin my marriage even less than I do! Alan Ross was your choice for me-”
“He was the best offer you had, my girl, and you were as happy to take it as I-at the time,” Augusta reminded her. “Who is this lover?”
“At least be glad I am conducting it in a very private room, and not at someone else’s house party, creeping in and out of bedrooms,” Christina snapped. “Who he is is none of your business. But he is a gentleman-if that is your concern.”
“Then your taste is improving!” Augusta said cruelly, and rose to her feet. “But from now on you will restrict it to your own home. Remember, Christina, Society does not forgive women, and it does not forget. A great deal of flirtation may be overlooked-even affairs if they are conducted discreetly enough. But slumming in the Devil’s Acre halls will not. It is a betrayal of one’s own class.” She moved to the door and opened it. There was no servant in the hall. “Be careful, my dear. You cannot afford another mistake.”
“I have not made one!” Christina replied through her teeth. “I thank you for your concern, but it was unnecessary.”
Augusta had chosen to make dinner a very formal affair. The servants were in full livery and all the best crystal was out. There were three Georgian silver candelabra and arrangements of flowers on the table that must have come from a dozen glasshouses. General Balantyne chose not even to imagine what they had cost.