“How kind of you,” Emily said with an edge to her voice that had far more to do with her own fears than any concern for Alston. “I am sure it is a most excellent act. Companionship is invaluable at such a time. I recall when I was bereaved, it was the company of my mother and my sister that gave me the most comfort.”
Charlotte had no idea what she was talking about—surely not Sarah’s death? That had affected them all equally—but she knew of no other bereavement.
Emily continued, regardless: “And I see no reason why you should not take a small drive if Monsieur Alaric is good enough to offer his company for that also. No one of any sensibility at all—no one who could possibly matter —would misunderstand that.” She lifted her chin. “People do misconstrue some associations, of course, but that is more often so when it is a friendship between a lady and a gentleman. Then people are bound to talk, no matter how innocent it may be in truth. Do you not agree, Monsieur Alaric?”
Charlotte watched him closely to see if she could detect in his face even the faintest degree of comprehension of what they really meant, the purpose under their superficial words.
He remained completely at ease; seemingly his attention was still upon Alston.
“There are always those who will think evil, Lady Ashworth,” he answered her. “Whatever the circumstances. One cannot possibly afford to cater to all of them. One must satisfy one’s own conscience and observe the most obvious conventions so as not to offend unnecessarily. I believe that is all. Beyond that, I think one should please oneself.” He turned to Charlotte, his eyes penetrating, as if he understood in some sense that she would have said exactly the same, were she to be truthful. “Do you not agree, Mrs. Pitt?”
She was caught in a dilemma. She hated equivocation, and her own tongue had caused enough social disasters to make anything but concurrence with him laughable. Also she would like to have been agreeable because there was a quality in him far beyond elegance, or even intellect, which drew her—a reserve of emotion as yet unreached that fascinated, like a thunderstorm, or the splendor of a rising wind far out at sea: dangerous and overwhelmingly beautiful.
She shut her eyes, then opened them wide.
“I think that can be a very selfish indulgence, Monsieur Alaric,” she said with primness that made her sick even as she was speaking. “Much as one would like to on occasion, one cannot ignore Society. If it were ever to be only oneself who paid the price for outraging people’s sensibilities, no matter how misplaced, it would be quite a different matter. But it is not. Gossip also hurts the innocent, more often than not. We are none of us alone. There are families upon whom every stain rubs off. The notion that you can please yourself without harming others is an illusion, and a most immature one. Too many people use it as an excuse for all manner of self-indulgences, and then plead ignorance and total amazement when others are dragged down with them, as if it could not have been foreseen with an ounce of sense!” She stopped for breath, not daring to look at any of them, least of all at Alaric.
“Bravo,” Emily whispered so softly that to the others it must have seemed as if she were no more than sighing.
“Charlotte!” Caroline was stunned, unable to think what to say.
“How very perceptive of you.” Emily rushed in to fill the hot silence. “And you have expressed it so well! It is a subject which has long needed some plain speaking! We delude ourselves so often to give us excuse for all sorts of behavior. Perhaps I should not, since you are my sister, but I do so commend your honesty!”
Since it was a precept Charlotte had been the last to obey in her own life, Emily’s remark could only be ironic, although there was nothing but translucent candor in her blue eyes now.
Charlotte beamed at her, daggers in her mind.
“Thank you,” she said sweetly. “You flatter me.” She stood up. “And now I, at least, must leave or I shall not have left myself time to call upon Mrs. Charrington, and I do find her so charming. Do you care to come with me, Mama? Or shall I tell her that you felt it your duty to remain here with Mr. Spencer-Brown—and Monsieur Alaric?”
Since it was manifestly ridiculous for Caroline to think anything of the sort, she had no alternative but to rise as well.
“Of course not,” she said tartly. “I should be delighted to come with you. I am very fond of Ambrosine and would like very much to call upon her. I must introduce her to Emily. Or do you know her already as well?” she added waspishly.
Emily was not in the least deterred. “No, I don’t believe I do. But Charlotte has spoken of her so kindly, I have been looking forward to meeting her.”
That was also untrue: Charlotte had never mentioned her, but it was an excellent parting line.
Alaric stood up, very straight, shoulders beautifully square, a flicker of the old laughter in his eyes, seeing them all so clearly, as a foreigner sometimes does.
“You will find her unique,” he said with a little bow. “And above all things, never, ever a bore.”
“Such a rare quality,” Charlotte murmured, blushing. “Never to be boring.”
Caroline lost her temper in frustration and reached out to kick Charlotte underneath her skirts. She missed, but the second time she caught her sharply on the ankle. The corners of her mouth lifted with satisfaction. “Quite,” she said. Then she looked at Alston, who had also risen to bid them goodbye. “If there is anything we can do, please do let me know.” Curiously she did not mention Edward, except by implication. “We are so close by and would be happy in any help or comfort we could offer—perhaps in practical arrangements?”
“How very kind of you,” Alston replied. “I should be most grateful.”
Charlotte looked straight at Alaric and met his eyes. She took a deep breath.
“I’m sure if you felt my father could offer you any help with regard to your assistance at the funeral, he would be delighted to do so.” She lifted her chin. “Perhaps he should call upon you and see what would be convenient? We have suffered bereavements ourselves, and he is a most sensitive person. I am quite convinced you would like him.” She did not look away, although she could feel the heat creeping up her face.
At last she was rewarded by an answering flash of understanding in the depths of Alaric’s eyes, and a slow color under his skin.
