finally a governess or a tutor, and thus every possible need would be tended to.
“A little distance,” she said composedly. “But one gets involved with one’s own circle, you know?”
Caroline shut her eyes, and Charlotte heard her give the faintest of sighs.
Mina was temporarily at a loss. The reply had not elicited the information she had expected, nor yet led to another avenue of exploration.
“Yes,” she said. “Naturally.” She took a deep breath, smoothed her skirts, and began again. “Of course we have had the pleasure of meeting your sister Lady Ashworth—a most charming person.”
The implication was being made, very delicately, that if someone of Emily’s social distinction could find the time, then Charlotte certainly ought to.
“I’m sure she must have enjoyed it.” Charlotte knew quite well that Emily would have been bored to tears, but Emily had always been skilled at hiding her feelings; in fact, she seemed to have the entire family’s share of tactfulness.
“I do hope so,” Mina replied. “Does Mr. Pitt have interests in the city?”
“Yes,” Charlotte said quite truthfully. “I imagine he is there at this moment.”
Caroline slid a little down in her chair, as if she were pretending she was absent.
Mina brightened. “Indeed! How sensible. An idle man can so quickly fall into unfortunate company, and end up wasting both his time and his substance, don’t you think?”
“I have no doubt of it,” Charlotte said, wondering what had prompted the remark.
“Although naturally the city has its pitfalls as well,” Mina continued. “Indeed, some of our own neighbors here in the Place have the oddest of habits, with comings and goings in the city! But then, of course, young men are prone to do such things, and I suppose one must expect it of a certain sort. Family background always tells, you know—sooner or later!”
Charlotte had no idea what she was talking about.
Caroline sat up. “If you mean Inigo Charrington,” she said with only the barest edge to her voice, although Charlotte noticed her ankles cross and her knees tighten as she deliberately kept her face smooth, “I believe he has friends in the city, and no doubt he cares to dine with them on occasion, or possibly go to the theater, or a concert.”
Mina’s eyebrows went up.
“Of course! One only hopes he has chosen wisely, and his friends are worthy of him. You didn’t know poor Ottilie, did you?”
“No.” Caroline shook her head.
Mina made a little face of sympathy. “The poor creature died the summer before you arrived, as I recall. She was so young, not more than twenty-two or twenty-three.”
Charlotte looked from one to the other of them, waiting for an explanation.
“Oh, you wouldn’t know her,” Mina said, seizing the chance. “She was Ambrosine Charrington’s daughter— Inigo’s sister. Really a most tragic affair altogether. They were away for a few weeks during the summer. Ottilie was in perfect health when they left—at least she seemed so. And then within a mere fortnight she was dead! Quite dreadful! We were all completely at a loss!”
“I’m so sorry.” Charlotte meant it; the story of life cut short was suddenly sobering in the midst of all the silly chatter and games of social superiority. “How very painful—for her family, I mean.”
Mina’s slender fingers roamed over her skirt again, laying it even more smoothly over her knees.
“Actually, they have borne it with the greatest fortitude.” Her fine eyebrows rose as if she were still surprised by it. “One cannot but admire them, most especially Ambrosine herself—that is, Mrs. Charrington—she has risen above it so magnificently. If one did not know of it for oneself, one would almost believe it had not happened at all. They never speak of her, you know!”
“No doubt the wound is still there,” Charlotte answered. “One never forgets, no matter how brave one’s face.”
“Oh dear!” Mina crumpled. “I do hope I have not inadvertently said something distressing, my dear Mrs. Pitt? Nothing was further from my mind than to cause you some painful memory.”
Charlotte smiled at her, pushing Sarah from her thoughts and hoping Caroline could do so too.
“I would never imagine that you might,” she said quietly. “I expect everyone has suffered some loss or another. There cannot be a family in the land that has never had death rob them of someone.”
Before Mina could search for a courteous acceptance of this, the withdrawing-room door opened and a very elderly lady came in, her face creased with irritation, a fine lace shawl drawn round her shoulders, and her black boots polished like glass.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Spencer-Brown,” she said curtly. “Didn’t know you were entertaining this afternoon, Caroline. Cook said nothing at luncheon!” She looked at Charlotte, then took a step closer. “Good gracious! It’s Charlotte!” She snorted slightly. “Decided to come back into decent Society, have you?”
“Good afternoon, Grandmama.” Charlotte stood up and offered her the most comfortable chair, which she herself had been occupying until that moment.
The old lady accepted it after rearranging the cushions and dusting the seat. She sat down, and Charlotte found herself a hard-backed chair.
“Better for you anyway.” The old lady nodded. “Get a round back sitting in one of these at your age. Girls always sat up properly when I was young. Knew how to conduct ourselves then. None of this gadding about without chaperones, going to the theater, and the like! And electricity all over the place! It must be unhealthy. Goodness only knows what’s in the air! Gas lamps are quite bad enough. If the good Lord had intended it to be light all night, He would have made the moon as bright as the sun.”
