Page 81 of Blackmail at Beckwith Place
‘Them all’ being Francis and Aunt Roz, I assumed. Perhaps Uncle Harold, who might hold his brother in higher regard than to suspect him of having indulged in multiple affairs—not that there was any part of me that wanted to run to Uncle Harold to tell tales. This was none of Uncle Harold’s concern, and aside from that, he might know already.
But there was one person who really ought to know.
“Aunt Roz…” I began, and Uncle Herbert flapped a hand.
“Roz knows.”
My jaw dropped. “Aunt Roz… knows?”
He nodded. “Of course. Did you think I would keep secrets from my wife? I told her about Maisie before we were married.”
Before I could say anything, a shadow crossed his face. “I didn’t know that there was a child, of course. If I had known, I might have been forced to act differently. My father was right about that…”
Duke Henry had been right in sending Maisie Moran away, I assumed, or Uncle Herbert might have felt compelled to marry her, once he knew about the child, instead of Aunt Roslyn.
“But the other?—”
He shook his head. “There were extenuating circumstances, Pippa. And I’m not discussing them with you. But you will not—will not, do I make myself clear?—youwill notask your aunt to explain them. Roz knows, but that doesn’t mean I want it dredged up again. Bad enough that I’ll have to tell her about Maisie’s child.”
“You’ll tell her about that?”
“I don’t keep secrets from my wife, Pippa,” Uncle Herbert said sternly. “And when you marry?—”
He stopped, rather abruptly, and breathed in and out through his nose a couple of times. When he continued speaking, he sounded less peremptory, so maybe he had realized that he wasn’t really in a good position to be giving marital advice. “When you marry, I hope you won’t keep secrets from your husband, either. A happy marriage is built on trust.”
Easy for him to say. It couldn’t be simple to trust a man who had cheated on you before, so more power to Aunt Roz. But I did love her, she was my blood, and Uncle Herbert was right: I didn’t want to cause her any more pain than he must have already caused with this behavior.
“I won’t say anything,” I said grudgingly. “Not to Aunt Roz nor to anyone else. Not Christopher or Francis or even Constance.”
“Or Crispin,” Uncle Herbert said.
“No, of course not. It’s none of his concern, is it?” Uncle Herbert didn’t respond, and I added, “It’s not like we’re close, you know. Everyone’s acting as if something’s going on with us, but the truth is that I can barely stand to be in the same room with him, and he doesn’t like me any better. I’m certainly not going to confide family secrets in him.”
Uncle Herbert nodded. He stuck out a hand. “Shake on it?”
“I suppose,” I said grudgingly.
“Good girl.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “I promise you there are extenuating circumstances, Pippa. I can’t tell you what they are, and I beg you not to interrogate your Aunt Roz or Hughes, but I swear I’m not such a cad as I seem. There were reasons, good reasons, for doing what I did.”
“I believe you,” I said, even if I wasn’t sure I did. I loved my uncle, though. He had taken me in and had become my surrogate father when my parents sent me to England before the war. I didn’t want this to come between us.
“Thank you, my dear.” He put a hand on my shoulder for a moment. “Now… will you come into the sitting room with the others?”
“I think I need a few minutes to myself,” I said. “I think perhaps I’ll go back outside and wait for Christopher to come back.”
If I tried to go upstairs, there was a chance that someone would see me, and I didn’t think I could face Aunt Roz, or Francis or Constance, right now. “Not to talk to,” I added. “Not about this. I promised, and I won’t. But I think I could use some fresh air. Is it all right if I go out this way?”
“Of course, Pippa.” Uncle Herbert turned the key in the lock and pulled the door open. “I’ll just lock this behind you again. Better not to have people wandering in and out everywhere.”
Definitely. Especially considering the things they might overhear.
“Has Sammy… has Constable Entwistle got around to doing individual interviews yet?”
“He spoke to the Earl and Countess Marsden,” Uncle Herbert said, “and to Lord Geoffrey. I can only assume he thinks they are the least likely to be involved, since they have no connection to the Astleys except through their niece.”
“No interview with Laetitia?”
Uncle Herbert shook his head. “I hope you have a plan, Pippa, or she’ll have Crispin hogtied and bound for the altar before the weekend is over.”
