Callander Square by Anne Perry

all, it is a crime, and crime is your livelihood, what?”
    Pitt did not argue. Instead he asked permission to speak to the servants again, and when it was granted, took his leave. It did not occur to Reggie until the evening, long after Pitt had gone, to wonder what Pitt had wanted to see him for in the first place. Perhaps the blighter just saw the brandy and the fire and fancied a few minutes’ relaxation. The working classes were often the same, give them a chance to idle and they’d take it with both hands. Still, couldn’t blame them entirely. Their life was gray enough. He would have done the same.
    After dinner the thought bothered him still more. What had the wretched fellow come about? Was it possible he had already heard some gossip? Got to kill this thing before it got underway. That sort of accusation, in the wrong quarters, could make him look ridiculous, a figure of jest. To take a toss with one’s parlormaid was perfectly accepted, probably half of London did it; but to have it a subject of talk was quite another thing. Discretion and good taste were the cornerstones of a gentleman’s conduct. There were certain functions which everyone knew about and no one discussed. Relieving one’s appetites with the servants was one of them. To do so was normal, part of the natural man: to be supposed to do so was not worthy of comment; but to be known to do so from other sources than one’s own innuendos was to be a figure of ribaldry and contempt. It was worse than that, it was bad taste.
    Better nip this thing in the bud. It was a pleasant enough evening, for late November. He decided to walk across the corner of the square and see Freddie Bolsover. Good fellow, Freddie; man of sense. Still, suppose doctors usually were; knew the facts of things, the inner man, no dressing it up, what?
    He found Freddie sitting in his withdrawing room listening to Sophie play the piano. He stood up quickly, smiling when Reggie came in. He was a tall, slender young man with fair face, good features in a well-bred way. He complemented Sophie nicely.
    “Reggie, nice to see you. Nothing wrong, I hope. You look well enough.”
    “Oh fine, fine,” Reggie grasped his hand for a moment, then let it go. “Evening, Sophie, my dear,” he kissed her high up the arm, squeezing it a little. Handsome piece, in her own way, nice hair, better than Adelina’s, although her body was a bit bony round the shoulders, not enough bosom for Reggie’s taste. “How about you?” he added as an afterthought.
    “Oh, very well,” Sophie answered and Freddie nodded agreement.
    “Got a bit of a problem in another area, old fellow.” Reggie glanced very slightly at Sophie to indicate it was a masculine affair and she should be politely dismissed.
    Freddie obliged, and Sophie took herself off on some made-up errand.
    Freddie sat down again, extending his feet toward the fire. It was a beautiful room; and Reggie happened to know, because Adelina had told him, that all the furniture and draperies were new, and of the latest fashion. He accepted the port Freddie offered him. That was jolly good too, damned old.
    “Well?” Freddie inquired.
    Reggie frowned, trying to frame his thoughts without betraying himself too far. Freddie was a good chap, but no point in telling him anything he did not need to know.
    “Had that police fellow nosing around again?” he asked, looking up.
    Freddie’s fair eyebrows rose in surprise.
    “Don’t really know. Suppose he’s bound to question the servants, and so forth. Haven’t seen him myself, but then there’s nothing I could tell him anyway. Don’t follow the romantic affairs of the servants’ hall!” he smiled.
    “Course not,” Reggie agreed. “No one does. But has it occurred to you the damage they could cause by a bit of mischievous gossip in the wrong place? I’ve spoken to this police chap. Civil enough, but not a gentleman, of course. Bound to have working class ideas. Wouldn’t have servants in