Free Callander Square by Anne Perry Page A

herself. “I think I had better go upstairs. The mention of food has made me feel quite sick. I would be obliged if you would not tell Max. Drink the tisane yourself, if you wish.”
    “Oh my dear!” Emily caught hold of her. “I’m so sorry. Let me help you, you are in no condition to be by yourself. I shall assist you at least to your rooms, and your maid can wait upon you. Shall I have someone call for the doctor?”
    “No!” Christina was fierce, her eyes blazing. “I am perfectly well. It is nothing of any import. Perhaps something I have eaten does not entirely agree with me. Pray do not mention the matter. I would take it as a true sign of your friendship if you were to treat the whole incident in complete confidence,” she put out a cold little hand and grabbed Emily hard.
    “Of course,” Emily reassured her. “I shall not mention it. One does not wish one’s indispositions discussed about the place. The matter is quite private.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Now you must come upstairs,” Emily guided her across the hall and up the wide staircase till they met her lady’s maid on the upstairs landing, who took charge of Christina.
    Emily had come down again and reached as far as the hall when she was nearly brushed aside by a tall man, broad-shouldered and wide-chested, who swept by her.
    “Perkins!” he shouted angrily. “Perkins, damn it!”
    Emily stood stock still.
    He swung round and saw her. He opened his mouth as if to shout again, then realized she was not the errant Perkins. His face was striking, with a great deal of bone. Now he colored faintly at having made an exhibition of himself. He raised his head still higher.
    “Good morning, ma’am. May I be of some assistance? For whom were you looking?”
    “General Balantyne?” she asked with magnificent composure.
    “At your service,” he said stiffly, his temper barely beneath the surface.
    Emily smiled with devastating charm.
    “Emily Ashworth,” she extended her hand. “I came to see Miss Balantyne, but she is a trifle indisposed this morning, so I shall take my leave. Have you lost a butler? I believe I saw him depart in that direction,” she pointed vaguely behind her. It was an invention, but she wished to appear helpful, and if possible even to engage him in some slight conversation.
    “No. Housemaid. Damn woman always moving my papers. Actually I can’t remember if her name is Perkins or not, but Augusta always calls downstairs housemaids Perkins, whatever they call themselves.”
    “Papers?” The beginning of an utterly brilliant idea was forming in Emily’s mind. “Are you engaged upon writing something?”
    “A family history, ma’am. The Balantynes have fought in all the great battles of the nation from the last two hundred years or so.”
    Emily breathed out, trying with all her considerable acting skill to invest her bearing with interest. Actually warfare bored her to tears; but she must make some intelligent remark.
    “How very important,” she replied. “The history of our men of war is the history of our race.” She was proud of that, it was an excellent observation.
    He looked at her narrowly.
    “You are the first woman I have met to consider it so.”
    “From my sister,” she said quickly. “My sister has always had an interest in such things. I learned from her of its great importance. One does not realize—but I keep you from your work. If I cannot help, I must at least not hinder. You should have someone to assist you, keep your papers in order, someone who understands such things to dust and care for your study, and perhaps take notes, should you not? Or maybe you have?”
    “If I had, ma’am, I should not now be searching for some housemaid to see what she has done with them!”
    “Do you think such a person might be of service to you?” She put her utmost effort into appearing quite casual.
    “To find a woman who had any sense of military history would not only be extremely fortunate, ma’am,