Traitors Gate by Anne Perry Page A

indulging in some distasteful joke. He had never been entirely certain of her sense of humor.
    She waited, regarding him without a flicker.
    “Mama-in-law, no serious society I know of accepts women! You must surely be aware of that?”
    “Why not?” she asked. “I have money, no husband I am obliged to obey, and I am as capable of doing good as anyone else.”
    “That is not the point!” he protested.
    “Oh. What is the point?”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “What is the point?” she repeated.
    Eustace was saved from justifying what to him was an assumption about the nature of the universe which was as beyond questioning as it was beyond explanation. The parlormaid came in to say that Mrs. Pitt had arrived.
    “Oh, good gracious. Thank you, Effie,” Vespasia said, acknowledging her. “I had not realized it was so late. Please ask her to come in.” She turned back to Eustace. “Charlottewill accompany me while we take our cards to the Duchess of Marlborough.”
    “Charlotte will?” Eustace was dumbfounded. “To the Duchess of Marlborough? Really, this is preposterous, Mama-in-law! She is utterly unsuitable. Heaven knows what she might say or do. Surely you’re not serious.”
    “I am perfectly serious. Thomas has been promoted since you last saw him. He is now a superintendent.”
    “I don’t care if he is commissioner of Scotland Yard!” Eustace said. “You still cannot have Charlotte call upon the Duchess of Marlborough!”
    “We are not going to call upon her,” Vespasia said patiently. “We are simply going to leave our cards, which, as you know as well as I do, is customary after attending a function. It is the accepted way of expressing our appreciation.”
    “‘Our appreciation’! Charlotte was there?” He was still completely nonplussed.
    “She was.”
    The door opened and Charlotte was shown in. As soon as she saw Eustace March her face registered a conflicting mixture of emotions—surprise, anger, self-consciousness—all overridden by curiosity.
    Eustace’s feelings were much plainer. There was nothing in his face but a pure and simple embarrassment. He rose to his feet, his cheeks flaming.
    “What a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Pitt, how are you?”
    “Good afternoon, Mr. March.” She swallowed hard and came forward.
    Vespasia could guess what manner of event she was remembering, most probably the ridiculous episode under the bed. No doubt, from the scarlet in Eustace’s cheeks, so was he.
    “I am in excellent health, thank you,” she added. “I am sure that you are also.” That may have been a memory of his ever open windows in Cardington Crescent, even oncloudy mornings when the wind blew the breakfast room to almost intolerable temperatures, and everyone except Eustace was shivering over the porridge.
    “Always, Mrs. Pitt,” Eustace said briskly. “I am blessed in that manner.”
    “Eustace has been telling me about an excellent society he has been privileged to join,” Vespasia said, indicating a chair for Charlotte.
    “Ah—yes,” Eustace agreed. “Dedicated to works of charity, and to influencing society for good.”
    “Congratulations,” Charlotte said wholeheartedly. “You must feel a great sense of achievement. It is certainly sorely needed.”
    “Oh indeed.” He resumed his own seat, sounding far more relaxed. He was back to discussing a subject which obviously pleased him enormously. “Indeed, Mrs. Pitt. It is most gratifying to feel that one can join with other men of like mind and dedication to the same purposes, and together we can be a real force in the land.”
    “What is the name of this society?” Charlotte asked innocently.
    “Ah, you must not ask further, my dear lady.” He shook his head a fraction, smiling as he did so. “Our aims and purposes are public and open to everyone, but our society itself is anonymous.”
    “You mean secret?” Charlotte asked boldly.
    “Ah well.” He looked taken aback. “I would not have chosen that