times a month, Mrs. Ellison. And not all of them are worth bothering with-not the sort of thing I enjoy, and certainly not for ladies.”
“Do ladies not attend all of them?” Sarah asked curiously. “You mean they are for men only?”
“Not at all, Mrs. Corde. I used the term ‘ladies’ to distinguish from the various other females who do attend, for their own reasons.”
Sarah opened her mouth, interest lighting her face, then remembered her propriety and closed it again. Emily caught Charlotte’s eye with amusement. They all knew Sarah’s love of the socially correct. Charlotte said it for her.
“You mean women of no virtue?” she said frankly. “The demimonde, I think they call it?”
George’s smile broadened.
“They do indeed, among other things,” he agreed. “There are the race-goers, and those who follow the race-goers, and those who follow the followers. Horse traders, gamblers, and I’m afraid thieves.”
Caroline frowned.
“Oh dear. It does not sound as pleasant a place as I had imagined.”
“Race meetings vary as much as people, Mrs. Ellison,” George said easily, reaching for another sandwich. “I was explaining why I do not attend certain of them.”
Caroline relaxed.
“Of course. I was concerned about Emily; unnecessarily, it seems. I hope you understand?”
“It would hardly become you to do less. But I assure you, I would not dream of taking Emily anywhere I would not be happy to see my own sister.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister?” Caroline was suddenly interested again; and so, from the looks on their faces, were the Deckers.
“Lady Carson,” George said easily.
“We should be most delighted to meet her. You must bring her to visit us,” Mr. Decker said quickly.
“I’m afraid she lives in Cumberland.” George dismissed his sister with equal ease. “She very seldom comes to London.”
“Carson?” Decker would not let it go. “I don’t think I know him?”
“Do you know Cumberland, Mr. Decker?” Emily asked. She did not like Decker, and resented his curiosity.
Decker looked a little taken aback.
“No, Miss Ellison. Is it-pleasant?”
Emily turned to George, raising her eyebrows.
“Very beautiful, if a little rustic,” he replied. “It lacks a good many of the amenities of civilized living.”
“No gaslights?” Charlotte asked. “Surely they must have hot water, and fires?”
“Certainly, Miss Ellison. I was thinking of gentlemen’s clubs, imported wines, tailors fit to patronize, theatres of anything but the most bucolic-in short, society.”
“It must be most distressing for your sister,” Miss Decker said drily. “I must be sure not to marry a man with the misfortune or the perversity to live in Cumberland.”
“Then if such a gentleman should ask you, you will have to refuse him,” Charlotte said tartly. Emily hid a smile. Apparently Charlotte did not like Miss Decker any more than she did. But, please heaven, she was not going to be rude! “Let us hope you have an offer more to your liking,” Charlotte finished.
Miss Decker flushed in annoyance.
“I don’t doubt I shall, Miss Ellison,” she snapped.
George sat forward, his handsome face darkened, his lip tight.
“I doubt you will get an offer more favourable than Lord Carson’s, Miss Decker. Not for marriage, at least!”
There was a moment’s hot silence. It was inexcusable for him to have embarrassed a woman in such a fashion, whatever the provocation. Caroline was at a loss for words.
Emily had to do something.
“It is as well we do not all have the same tastes,” she said quickly. “But I dare say Lord Carson’s estates are very comfortable. Living in a place is quite different from visiting it. One always finds plenty to do when one is at home. There are responsibilities.”
“How perceptive you are,” George agreed. “Lord Carson’s estates are extremely wide. He breeds bloodstock, and runs a prize herd of cattle; and, of course there is extensive shooting and fishing. There are mills of some sort also-”
He stopped suddenly, realizing he was speaking of possessions, of money, in a manner that was vulgar. “Eugenie has more than enough to do, especially with three children.”
“She must indeed be busy,” Caroline said noncommittally.
And so the afternoon continued. The conversation recovered. Emily worked hard to see that it did so, and Sarah was sufficiently impressed to exercise her very best manners, which were excellent.
Afterwards Emily and Charlotte were alone in the withdrawing room. Charlotte opened the doors to let in the late afternoon sun.
“You were not a great deal of help,” Emily said a little crossly. “You might have perceived what manner of creature Miss Decker is!”
“I also perceived what manner of creature he is,” Charlotte replied, staring at the roses.
“Mr. Decker?” Emily said in surprise. “He is nothing.”
“Not Decker. Your Lord Ashworth. That yellow rose is going to be out tomorrow.”
“What on earth does that matter? Charlotte, I mean to have George Ashworth offer for me, so just control your tongue while he calls upon us!”
“You what?” Charlotte turned round in amazement.
“You heard me! I mean to marry him, so just play at being courteous at least for the present.”
“Emily! You hardly know him!”
“I will, by the time it matters.”
“You can’t marry him! You’re talking nonsense!”
“I’m speaking perfectly good sense. You may be happy to spend your life dreaming, but I am not. I have no illusions that George is perfect-”
“Perfect!” Charlotte said incredulously. “He’s appalling! He’s shallow, a gambler, and probably a rake! He’s not-not a part of our world, Emily. Even if he married you, he would make you wretched.”
“You’re a dreamer, Charlotte. There is no man who won’t make you wretched some time or other. I think George will have more to compensate for it than most, and I mean to marry him. I won’t allow you to prevent me.” She meant it. Standing in the withdrawing room in the gold evening sunlight, looking at Charlotte’s face, the light on her heavy hair, she realized just how profoundly she did mean it. That which at the beginning of the afternoon had been an idea, had now become a quite irrevocable intention.
Chapter Three
It was the end of July, and Caroline was arranging flowers in the withdrawing room, thinking about the household accounts she ought to be doing instead, when Dora came in without knocking.
Caroline stopped, a long, white daisy in her hand. Really, she could not allow this extraordinary behaviour. She turned to speak, then saw Dora’s face.
“Dora? What is it?” She let the daisy drop.
“Oh, ma’am!” Dora let out a long wail. “Oh, ma’am!”
“Pull yourself together, Dora. Now tell me what has happened. Is it that butcher’s boy again? I’ve told you to report him to Maddock if he continues to be impertinent. He’ll soon sort out a tongue that runs away with a young man. Otherwise he’ll lose his employment. Maddock will tell him that. Now stop sniffling and go back to your work. And Dora, don’t come into the withdrawing room again without knocking. You know better than that.” She picked up the daisy from the sideboard and considered the vase again. There was too much blue on the left side.
