However, he made no demur at all when she asked him if he would be agreeable to her taking luncheon with Edith the following day; in fact he seemed quite eager that she should.
Accordingly noon on the fifth saw her in Edith's sitting room discussing with her the possibilities of employment, not only as librarian but as companion if a lady of suitable occupation and temperament could be found. Even teaching foreign languages was not beyond consideration if the worse came to the worst.
They were still arguing the possibilities and seeking for more when luncheon was announced and they went downstairs to find Dr. Charles Hargrave in the withdrawing room. He was lean, very tall, and even more elegant than Hester had imagined from Edith's brief description of him. Introductions were performed by Felicia, and a moment later Randolph came in with a fair, handsome boy with a face still soft with the bloom of childhood, his hair curling back from his brow, his blue eyes wary and a careful, closed expression.
He was introduced, although Hester knew he was Cassian Carlyon, Alexandra's son.
“Good morning, Cassian,” Hargrave said courteously, smiling at the boy.
Cassian dropped his shoulder and wriggled his left foot up his right ankle. He smiled back. “Good morning, sir.”
Hargrave looked directly at him, ignoring the adults in the room and speaking as if they were alone, man to man.
“How are you getting on? Are you quite well? I hear your grandfather has given you a fine set of lead soldiers.”
“Yes sir, Wellington's army at Waterloo,” the boy answered with a flicker of enthusiasm at last touching his pale face. “Grandpapa was at Waterloo, you know? He actually saw it, isn't that tremendous?”
“Absolutely,” Hargrave agreed quickly. “I should think he has some splendid stories he can tell you.”
“Oh yes sir! He saw the emperor of the French, you know. And he was a funny little man with a cocked hat, and quite short when he wasn't on his white horse. He said the Iron Duke was magnificent. I would love to have been there.” He dropped his shoulder again and smiled tentatively, his eyes never leaving Hargrave's face. “Wouldn't you, sir?”
“Indeed I would,” Hargrave agreed. “But I daresay there will be other battles in the future, marvelous ones where you can fight, and see great events that turn history, and great men who win or lose nations in a day.”
“Do you think so, sir?” For a moment his eyes were wide and full of unclouded excitement as the vision spread before his mind.
“Why not?” Hargrave said casually. “The whole world lies in front of us, and the Empire gets bigger and more exciting every year. There's all of Australia, New Zealand, Canada. And in Africa mere's Gambia, Sierra Leone, the Gold Coast, South Africa; and in India there's the Northwest Province, Bengal, Oudh, Assam, Arakan, Mysore, and all the south, including Ceylon and islands in every ocean on earth.”
“I'm not sure I even know where all those places are, sir,” Cassian said with wonderment.
“Well then I had better show you, hadn't I?” Hargrave said, smiling broadly. He looked at Felicia. “Do you still have a schoolroom here?”
“It has been closed a long time, but we intend to open it again for Cassian's use, as soon as this unsettled time is over. We will engage a suitable tutor for him of course. I think a complete change is advisable, don't you?”
“A good idea,” Hargrave agreed. “Nothing to remind him of things best put away.” He turned back to Cassian. “Then this afternoon I shall take you up to the old schoolroom and we shall find a globe, and you shall show me all those places in the Empire that you know, and I shall show you all the ones you don't. Does that appeal to you?”
“Yes.sir-thank you sir,” Cassian accepted quickly. Then he glanced at his grandmother, saw the approval in her eyes, and moved around so that his back was to his grandfather, studiously avoiding looking at nun.
Hester found herself smiling and a little prickle of warmth coming into her for the first time on behalf of the child. It seemed he had at least one friend who was going to treat him as a person and give him the uncritical, undemanding companionship he so desperately needed. And from what he said, his grandfather too was offering him some thoughts and tales that bore no relationship to his own tragedy. It was a generosity she would not have expected from Randolph, and she was obliged to view him with a greater liking than before. From Peverell she had expected it anyway, but he was out on business most of the day, when Cassian had his long hours alone.
They were about to go into the dining room when Peverell himself came in, apologized for being late and said he hoped he had not delayed them. He greeted Hester and Hargrave, then looked around for Damaris.
“Late again,” Felicia said with tight lips. “Well we certainly cannot wait for her. She will have to join us wherever we are at the time she gets here. If she misses her meal it is her own doing.” She turned around and without looking at any of them led the way into the dining room.
They were seated and the maid had come with soup when Damaris opened the door and stood on the threshold. She was dressed in a very slender gown, almost without hoops they were so small, the whole outfit in black and dove-gray, her hair pulled back from her long, thoughtful face with its lovely bones and emotional mouth.
For a moment there was silence, and the maid stopped with the soup ladle in the air.
“Sorry I'm late,” she said with a tiny smile curling her lips, her eyes going first to Peverell, then to Edith and Hester, finally to her mother. She was leaning against the lintel.
“Your apologies are wearing a little thin!” Felicia said tartly.”This is the fifth time this fortnight that you have been late for a meal. Please continue to serve, Marigold.”
The maid resumed her duty.
Damaris straightened up and was about to move forward and take her seat when she noticed Charles Hargrave for the firsttime. He had been partly shielded by Randolph. Her whole body froze and the blood drained from her skin. She swayed as if dizzy, and put both hands onto the door lintel to save herself.
Peverell rose to his feet immediately, scraping his chair back.
“What is it, Ris? Are you ill? Here, sit down, my dear.” He half dragged her to his own abandoned chair and eased her into it. “What has happened? Are you faint?”
Edith pushed across her glass of water and he seized it and held it up to Damaris's lips.
Hargrave rose and came forward to kneel beside her, looking at her with a professional calm.
“Oh really,” Randolph said irritably, and continued with his soup.
“Did you have any breakfast?” Hargrave asked, frowning at Damaris. “Or were you late for that also? Fasting can be dangerous, you know, make you light-headed.”
She lifted her face and met his eyes slowly. For seconds they stared at each other in a strange, frozen immobility, he with concern, she with a look of bewilderment as if she barely knew where she was.
“Yes,” she said at last, her voice husky. “That must be what it is. I apologize for making such a nuisance of myself.” She swallowed awkwardly. “Thank you for the water Pev- Edith. I am sure I shall be perfectly all right now.”
“Ridiculous!” Felicia said furiously, glaring at her daughter. “Not only are you late, but you come in here making an entrance like an operatic diva and then half swoon all over the place. Really, Damaris, your sense of the melodramatic is both absurd and offensive, and it is time you stopped drawing attention to yourself by any and every means you can think of!”
Hester was acutely uncomfortable; it was the sort of scene an outsider should not be privy to.
Peverell looked up, his face suddenly filled with anger.
“You are being unjust, Mama-in-law. Damaris had no intention of making herself ill. And I think if you have some criticism to make, it would be more fitting if you were to do it in private, when neither Miss Latterly nor Dr. Hargrave would be embarrassed by our family differences.”
It was a speech delivered in a gentle tone of voice, but it contained the most cutting criticism that could be imagined. He accused her of behaving without dignity, without loyalty to her family's honor, and perhaps worst of all, of embarrassing her guests, sins which were socially and morally unforgivable.
She blushed scarlet, and then the blood fled, leaving her ashen. She opened her mouth to retaliate with something equally vicious, and was lost to find it.
Peverell turned from his mother-in-law to his wife. “I mink it would be better if you were to lie down, my dear. I will have Gertrude bring you up a tray.”
“I…” Damaris sat upright again, turning away from Hargrave. “I really…”
“You will feel better if you do,” Peverell assured her, but there was a steel in his voice that brooked no
