Aaron Godman was innocent, and her consequent fear that Joshua was guilty. Devlin O’Neil was another matter altogether. She liked Kathleen and would grieve if he proved to be guilty, but her art of concealment was perfectly able to match that eventuality.
“How charming to see you,” she said with just the right degree of surprise. “Good day, Mrs. Harrimore. I hope you are well?”
Adah Harrimore was dressed in dark brown with a sable trim and a hat which had been extremely elegant a couple of seasons ago and had since been altered to mask its year of vogue.
“I dislike the winter, but I am quite well, thank you,” she replied with an air of graciousness. “And you, Miss Pitt?”
“Very well, thank you. I do agree with you, the cold can be most disagreeable. But you know, I don’t think I should care for the heat such as they have in Egypt either.” She looked with intensity at the artifacts on display in the case in front of them: copper instruments, shards of pottery and beautiful turquoise and lapis beads. A small glass jar caught her attention in particular. “It makes one wonder about the lives of the people who fashioned and wore these, doesn’t it?” she went on enthusiastically. “Do you suppose they were so very different from us, or if actually their feelings were much the same?”
“Quite different,” Adah said decisively. “They were Egyptian—we are English.”
“That will affect our habits, and the clothes we wear, our houses, what we eat. But do you think it changes the way we feel, and what we value?” Charlotte asked as politely as she could. It was a quite genuine question, but the fierce and instant response from Adah had startled her, and she saw something in the old woman’s face which disturbed her. It was not merely an opinion which would not be moved, it was a flicker of fear, as though there were something dangerous in the alien quality of those people from another land, and so long dead.
Adah looked at the artifacts, and then at Charlotte.
“If you forgive my saying so, Miss Pitt, you are very young, and consequently naive. I daresay you have had little experience of peoples of other races. Even if they are born here in England, and grow up amongst us, they still have an element which is different. Blood will tell. You may teach a child as much as you wish; in the end his heritage will come through.”
They were passed by two ladies in the height of fashion who inclined their heads graciously and continued walking.
Adah smiled stiffly. “How can you expect those who are born elsewhere,” she continued to Charlotte, “and grow up among totally different beliefs, to have anything in common with us but the most superficial manners? No, my dear Miss Pitt, I do not think they feel as we do about anything at all—at least anything of sensitivity or moral value. Why should they?”
Charlotte opened her mouth to reply, then realized she had no answer which would not sound either trite or rude.
“They worshiped fearful gods, with heads like animals.” Adah warmed to her subject. “And they tried to preserve the corpses of their dead! For goodness sake! We may find them most interesting to learn of, edifying to know the past, I am sure, and uplifting to realize how superior is our own culture. But to imagine we have anything in common with them is sheer folly.”
Charlotte scrambled for some dim recollection out of her schoolbooks.
“Was there not a pharaoh who believed in one god?” she enquired.
Adah’s eyebrows rose. “I have no idea. But he was not our God—that is beyond question. Pharaoh tried to kill Moses, and all his people! That was unarguably wicked. No one who believed in the real God would do such a thing.”
“People sometimes do terrible things to their enemies, especially when they are afraid.”
A shadow passed over Adah’s face, something in her eyes that for a moment froze. Then with a supreme effort it was conquered, and vanished.
“That is perfectly true, of course. But it is in moments of panic that our deeper natures are exposed, and you will find that foreigners will behave differently from us, because at heart they are different. That is not to say that some of them do not create most beautiful things, and know much that we may benefit from seeing.”
A governess in plain brown stood at the next exhibit, her twelve-year-old charge giggling at a bust of a long- dead queen.
“I find that particularly true of the Greeks,” Adah continued, her voice raised. “Some of their architecture is quite marvelous. Of course they were a people of most exquisite self-discipline, and sense of proportion. My grandson-in-law, Mr. O’Neil, whom you met, has been to Athens. He said that the Parthenon is beyond description. He finds the Greeks most uplifting. He admires the work of Lord Byron, which I admit I find somewhat questionable. I greatly prefer our own Lord Tennyson. You know where you are with Lord Tennyson.”
Charlotte gave up without further struggle. To continue to argue would lose her far more than she could possibly gain. And the look in Adah’s eyes still haunted her mind.
“That must have been a wonderful experience,” she said dutifully. “Are there good Greek exhibits here?”
“Most certainly. Let us go and see some of the urns and vases. This way, I think!” And with a sweeping gesture Adah led the way out of the Egyptian hall and into the next chamber.
Charlotte passed Clio and Kathleen on the steps. She smiled, then hurried after Adah, catching up with her just as they entered the room where the Greek artifacts were displayed.
“How very fortunate of Mr. O’Neil to have been able to go to Greece,” she said conversationally. “Was it recently?”
“About seven years ago,” Adah replied.
“Did Mrs. O’Neil go with him?” Charlotte kept her voice politely interested, although she knew Kathleen had been married to Kingsley Blaine then.
“No,” Adah said flatly. “That was before their marriage. But no doubt they will go again some time in the future. I take it you have not been to Greece, Miss Pitt?”
