better to say nothing. It would be in very poor taste to embarrass a friend by letting it be known. Besides, as Eloise says, it may turn up-although I doubt it now.'
Caroline cleared her throat nervously. 'But should theft be condoned?' she said a little hesitantly. 'I mean-is that right?'
Tormod was still casual, his voice light. He smiled at her with a little twist of regret.
'I suppose not, if one knew for sure who it was and had proof that it had occurred,' he said. 'But we haven't. All we would do is rouse suspicion, and perhaps quite unjustly. Better to let the matter lie. Once one begins an inquiry into evil, one can start a train of events that is very difficult to stop. A silver-plated buttonhook is hardly worth all the anger and fear, and the doubts, that inquiry would raise.'
'I think you are quite right,' Charlotte said quickly. 'After all, a case of something missing-one has no idea where-is very different from actually knowing beyond question that a particular person has stolen it.'
'How wise of you.' Tormod flashed her a rapid smile. 'Justice is not always best served by shouting 'thief.' '
Before Caroline could defend her view, the maid announced another caller.
'Mrs. Denbigh, ma'am,' she said to Eloise. 'Shall I say that you will receive her?'
Eloise's face tightened almost imperceptibly. In another light, farther from the window, the change in her expression might not have been visible at all.
'Yes, of course, Beryl, please do.'
Amaryllis Denbigh was the sort of woman Charlotte felt quite uncomfortable with. She came into the room with assurance, carrying with her an air of always having been successful, always valued. She was not beautiful, but there was an appeal in her face of wide eyes and slightly too round, curved lips, the innocence of an adolescent who does not yet understand her own potential for excitement and hunger. She had an abundance of fair, wavy hair that was dressed just casually enough not to look unnatural. It required a very skilled maid to achieve such an effect. Her dress was undeniably expensive-not in the least ostentatious, but Charlotte knew how much it cost to have a dressmaker cut it so cleverly that the bust looked just that much fuller, the waist those few inches smaller.
Introductions were formal and very complete. Amaryllis weighed Charlotte to an exactness, and dismissed her. She turned to Tormod.
'Shall you be coming to Mrs. Wallace's soiree on Thursday? I do so hope so. I have heard the pianist she has invited is quite excellent. I'm sure you would enjoy it. And Eloise too, of course,' she added as an afterthought, a politeness without conviction.
Charlotte noted the tone in her voice and drew conclusions of her own.
'I think we will,' Tormod replied. He turned to Eloise. 'You have nothing else prepared, have you, dear?'
'No, not at all. If this pianist is good, it will be a great pleasure. I only hope they do not all make such a noise we cannot hear him.'
'My dear, you cannot expect conversation to cease just to listen to a pianist-not at a soiree,' Amaryllis said gently. 'After all, it is primarily a social event, and the music is merely a diversion, a pleasantness. And of course it gives people some shy;thing to talk about without having to think too hard for a suitable subject. Some people are so awkward, you know.' She smiled at Charlotte. 'Do you not think so, Mrs. Pitt?'
'Indeed, I am sure of it,' Charlotte agreed frankly. 'Some cannot think of anything suitable to say at all, while others speak far too much and at all the wrong times. I greatly like a person who knows how to be silent comfortably, especially when there is good music playing.'
Amaryllis' face tightened. She ignored the implication.
'Do you play, Mrs. Pitt?' she asked.
'No,' Charlotte answered blandly. 'I regret I do not. Do you?'
Amaryllis regarded her chillingly.
'I paint,' she replied. 'I prefer it. So much less intrusive, I think. One can look or not, as one chooses. Oh'-she widened her eyes and bit her lip-'I'm so sorry, Eloise. I had forgotten that you play. I did not mean you, of course! You have never played at anyone's soiree!'
'No, I think I should be very nervous,' Eloise said. 'Although it would be an honor to be asked. But I rather think I should be irritated if everyone talked so much that no one else could listen.' She spoke with some feeling. 'Music should be respected, not treated like street sounds, or wallpaper, no more than a sort of background. Then one becomes bored with it, without ever having appreciated its beauty.'
Amaryllis laughed, a high, pretty sound that irked Charlotte unreasonably-perhaps because she would have liked to have such a laugh, and knew she did not.
'How philosophical you are!' Amaryllis said brightly. 'I warn you, my dear, if you start saying things like that at a soiree, you will become most unpopular. People will not know what to make of you!' /
Charlotte gave her mother a sharp nudge on the ankle, and as Caroline bent to touch the place, thinking something had fallen on her, Charlotte pretended to assume she was preparing to leave.
'May I help you, Mama?' she offered, then rose and gave Caroline her arm.
Caroline glanced at her. 'I am not yet in need of assistance, Charlotte,' she said crisply. But although the idea of sitting down again, out of contrariness, lingered quite clearly in her eyes, after a moment she excused herself politely, and a few minutes later they were both outside in the street again.
'I dislike Mrs. Denbigh,' Charlotte said with feeling. 'Very much!'
'That was obvious.' Caroline pulled her collar up. Then she smiled. 'Actually, so do I. It is completely unfair, because I have no idea why, but I find her most irritating.'
'She has set her cap at Tormod Lagarde,' Charlotte remarked by way of partial explanation. 'And she is being very bold about it.' I
'Do you think so?'!
'Of course she is! Don't tell me you had not noticed!'
'Of course I have noticed!' Caroline shivered. 'But I have I seen a great many more women set their caps at men than you have, my dear, and I had not thought Amaryllis was particularly clumsy. In fact, I think she is really quite patient.'
'I still do not care for her!'
'That is because you like Eloise and you cannot think what will happen to her if Tormod marries, since Amaryllis obviously is not fond of her. Perhaps Eloise herself will marry, and that will solve the problem.'
'Then it would be a great deal cleverer of Amaryllis to find a suitable young man for Eloise than to sit there disparaging her, wouldn't it! It should not be hard-she is perfectly charming. What is the matter, Mama? You keep hunching your shoulders as if you were in a draft, but it is quite sheltered here.'
'Is there anyone behind us?'
Charlotte turned. 'No. Why? Were you expecting someoneT'
'No! No-I–I just have the feeling that someone is watching US: For goodness' sake, don't stare like that, Charlotte. You will have people think we are watching them, trying to see in through their curtains!'
'What people?' Charlotte forced herself to smile in an effort to hide her anxiety for Caroline. 'There isn't anyone,' she said reasonably.
'Don't be silly!' Caroline snapped. 'There is always someone-a butler or a maid drawing curtains, or a footman at a door.''
'Then it is hardly anything to matter.' Charlotte dismissed it with words, but in her mind she did not find it so easy. The sensation of being watched-not casually observed by someone about another duty, but deliberately and systematically watched- was extremely unpleasant. Surely Caroline was imagining it? Why should anyone do such a thing? What possible reason would there be?
Caroline had quickened her pace, and now she did so again. They were walking so rapidly Charlotte's skirts whipped round her ankles, and she was afraid that if she did not look where she was going she would trip over one of the paving stones and fall headlong.
Caroline whirled around the gatepost and up the steps to her own front door. She was there before the footman had seen them to open it, and was obliged to wait. She shifted from foot to foot, and once actually turned to stare back into the road.
'Mama, has someone accosted you in the street?' Charlotte asked, touching her arm.
'No, of course not! It's just-' She shook herself angrily. 'I have the feeling that I am not alone, even when it would appear in every way that I am. There is someone I cannot see but who I am perfectly sure can see me.'
