He stopped.
Hester knew what he had been going to say; she had met the attitude many times before, especially in older soldiers. It was not suitable for gentlewomen. Females who followed the army were either enlisted men's wives, laundresses, servants, or whores. Except the most senior officers' ladies, of course, but that was quite different. They knew Hester was not married.
“Nursing has improved immensely in the last few years,” she said with a smile. “It is now a profession.”
“Not for women,” Felicia said flatly. “Although I am sure your work was very noble, and all England admires it. What are you doing now you are home again?”
Hester heard Edith's indrawn breath and saw Damaris swiftly lower her eyes to her plate.
“I am caring for a retired military gentleman who has broken his leg quite severely,” Hester answered, forcing herself to see the humor of the situation rather than the offense. “He requires someone more skilled in caring for the injured than a housemaid.”
“Very commendable,” Felicia said with a slight nod, sipping at her tea again.
Hester knew implicitly that what she did not add was that it was excellent only for women who were obliged to support themselves and were beyond a certain age when they might reasonably hope for marriage. She would never countenance her own daughters descending to such a pass, as long as there was a roof over their heads and a single garment to put on their backs.
Hester made her smile even sweeter.
“Thank you, Mrs. Carlyon. It is most gratifying to be of use to someone, and Major Tiplady is a gentleman of good family and high reputation.”
“Tiplady…” Randolph frowned. “Tiplady? Can't say I ever heard of him. Where'd he serve, eh?”
“India.”
“Funny! Thaddeus, my son, you know, served in India for years. Outstanding man-a general, you know. Sikh Wars-'45 to '46, then again in '49. Was in the Opium Wars in China in '39 as well. Very fine man! Everyone says so. Very fine indeed, if I do say so. Son any man would be proud of. Never heard him mention anyone called Tiplady.”
“Actually I believe Major Tiplady was sent to Afghanistan-the Afghan Wars of '39 and '42. He talks about it sometimes. It is most interesting.”
Randolph looked at her with mild reproof, as one would a precocious child.
“Nonsense, my dear Miss Latterly. There is no need to affect interest in military matters in order to be polite. My son has very recently died”-his face clouded-”most tragically. As no doubt you are aware from Edith, but we are used to bearing our loss with fortitude. You do not need to consider our feelings in such a way.”
Hester drew breath to say her interest had nothing to do with Thaddeus Carlyon and long predated her even having heard of him, then decided it would not be understood or believed, and would appear merely offensive.
She compromised.
“Stories of courage and endeavor are always interesting, Colonel Carlyon,” she said with a very direct stare at him. “I am extremely sorry for your loss, but I never for a moment considered affecting an interest or a respect I did not feel.”
He seemed caught off balance for a moment. His cheeks grew pinker and he blew out his breath sharply, but glancing sideways at Felicia, Hester saw a flicker of appreciation and something which might have been a dark, painful humor, but it was too brief for her to do more than wonder at it.
Before any reply was required, the door opened and a man came in. His manner seemed on the surface almost deferential, until one observed that actually he did not wait for any approval or acknowledgment; it was simply that there was no arrogance in him. Hester judged he was barely an inch taller than Damaris, but still a good height for a man, of very average build if a little round-shouldered. His face was unremarkable, dark eyed, lips hidden by his mustache, features regular, except that there was an aura of good humor about him as though he held no inner anger and optimism were a part of his life.
Damaris looked up at him quickly, her expression lightening.
“Hallo, Pev. You look cold-have some tea.”
He touched her gently on the shoulder as he passed and sat down in the chair next to hers.
“Thank you,” he accepted, smiling across at Hester, waiting to be introduced.
“My husband,” Damaris said quickly. “Peverell Erskine. Pev, this is Hester Latterly, Edith's friend, who nursed in the Crimea with Florence Nightingale.”
“How do you do, Miss Latterly.” He inclined his head, his face full of interest.”I hope you are not bored by endless people asking you to tell us about your experiences. We should still be obliged if you would do it for us.”
Felicia poured his tea and passed it. “Later, perhaps, if Miss Latterly should call again. Did you have a satisfactory day, Peverell?”
He took her rebuff without the least irritation, almost as if he had not noticed it. Hester would have felt patronized and retaliated. That would have been far less satisfying, and watching Peverell Erskine, she realized it with a little stab of surprise.
He took a cucumber sandwich and ate it with relish before replying.
“Yes thank you, Mama-in-law. I met a most interesting man who fought in the Maori Wars ten years ago.” He looked at Hester. “That is in New Zealand, you know? Yes, of course you do. They have the most marvelous birds there. Quite unique, and so beautiful.” His agreeable face was full of enthusiasm. “I love birds, Miss Latterly. Such a variety. Everything from a hummingbird no bigger than my little finger, which hovers in the air to suck the nectar from a flower, right up to an albatross, which flies the oceans of the earth, with a wingspan twice the height of a man.” His face was bright with the marvels he perceived, and in that instant Hester knew precisely why Damaris had remained in love with him.
She smiled back. “I will trade with you, Mr. Erskine,” she offered. “I will tell you everything I know about the Crimea and Miss Nightingale if you will tell me about what you know of birds.”
He laughed cheerfully. “What an excellent idea. But I assure you, I am simply an amateur.”
“By far the best. I should wish to listen for love of it, not in order to become learned.”
“Mr. Erskine is a lawyer, Miss Latterly,” Felicia said with distinct chill. Then she turned to her son-in-law. “Did you see Alexandra?”
His expression did not alter, and Hester wondered briefly if he had avoided telling her this immediately because she had been so curt in cutting him off. It -would be a good-natured and yet effective way of asserting himself so she did not overrule him completely.
“Yes I did.” He addressed no one in particular, and continued sipping his tea. “I saw her this morning. She is very distressed of course, but bearing it with courage and dignity.”.
“I would expect that of any Carlyon,” Felicia said rather sharply. “You do not need to tell me that. I beg your pardon, Miss Latterly, but this is a family matter which cannot interest you. I wish to know her affairs, Peverell. Is everything in order? Does she have what she requires? I imagine Thaddeus left everything tidy and well arranged?”
“Well enough.
Her eyebrows rose. “Well enough? What on earth do you mean?”
“I mean that I have taken care of the preliminaries, and so far there is nothing that cannot be satisfactorily dealt with, Mama-in-law.”
“I shall require to know more than that, at a suitable time.”
“Then you will have to ask Alexandra, because I cannot tell you,” he said with a bland and totally uncommunicative smile.
“Don't be absurd! Of course you can.” Her large blue eyes were hard. “You are her solicitor; you must be aware of everything there is.”
“Certainly I am aware of it.” Peverell set down his cup and looked at her more directly. “But for precisely that reason I cannot discuss her affairs with anyone else.”
“He was my son, Peverell. Have you forgotten that?”
“Every man is someone's son, Mama-in-law,” he said gently. “That does not invalidate his right to privacy, nor his widow's.”
Felicia's face was white. Randolph retreated farther back into his chair, as if he had not heard. Damaris sat
