afternoon we shall go calling.”
Charlotte drew breath to make some excuse. She could not possibly go around Paragon Walk with Emily, dressed in gray muslin. Momentarily she was angry with Emily for putting her in such a position. She turned to glare at her.
Aunt Vespasia cleared her throat sharply.
“And who, precisely, did you have it in mind to call upon?”
Emily looked at Charlotte, realized her mistake, and fished herself out of it with aplomb.
“I thought Selena Montague. She admires herself in plum pink, and Charlotte will look so much better in it I should enjoy putting her in my new silk, and obliging Selena to look at her. I do not care for Selena,” she added as an aside to Charlotte, quite unnecessarily. “And the dress will fit you excellently. The foolish dressmaker got her fingers muddled and made it much too long for me.”
Aunt Vespasia allowed her a small smile of admiration.
“I thought it was Jessamyn Nash you disliked,” she remarked casually.
“I like irritating Jessamyn,” Emily waved a hand. “That is not really the same thing. I have never thought whether I like her or not.”
“Whom do you like?” Charlotte inquired, wanting to know more about the Walk. Now that she was freed from the immediate problem of dress, her mind went back to Fanny Nash and the fear that the others seemed to have forgotten.
“Oh,” Emily considered for a moment. “I quite like Phoebe Nash, Jessamyn’s sister-in-law, if she would be a little more definite. And I like Albertine Dilbridge, although I have no patience with her mother. And I like Diggory Nash, but I do not know why. I can think of nothing in particular to say about him that is good.”
Luncheon was announced, and the three of them departed for the dining room. Charlotte had not seen a meal of such simple grace for a long time, perhaps not ever. It was all cold, and yet of such delicacy that it must have taken hours to prepare. In the still heat it was delicious just to contemplate the cold soups, fresh salmon with minute cold vegetables, ices, sherbets and fruit. She was halfway through eating it, elegantly, as if she ate such things every day, when she remembered Pitt would probably be chewing through heavy bread sandwiches with a little cold meat in them, if he was fortunate, if not, then cheese, dry and clogging in the mouth. She put her fork down, the peas rolling away. Neither Emily nor Vespasia noticed.
It took half an hour, much critical surveying by Emily, and a least a dozen pins, before Charlotte was satisfied that she looked acceptable in the plum silk and could go calling to the Walk. Actually she was rather more than satisfied. It was a very good quality silk indeed, and the color was remarkably flattering to her. The warmth of it against the honey of her skin and the richness of her hair was enough to carry her away in a flight of vanity. It was going to hurt to take it off and give it back to Emily at the end of the afternoon. The gray muslin had lost all its appeal. It no longer looked smart, merely drab and very much last year’s.
Aunt Vespasia complimented her with dry humor as she came down the stairs, but she met the old lady’s eyes without a flicker and hoped she had no idea how many pins there were in it, or how hard she had relaced her stays to get into Emily’s old waist.
She thanked Vespasia and walked with Emily out into the sunlight on the carriageway, head high and back very straight. Actually it was more than a little uncomfortable to hold herself in any other way, and she would have to sit with care.
It was only a hundred yards or so to Selena Montague’s house, and Emily said very little on the way. They knocked at the door and were let in immediately by a smart maid in black and lace, obviously poised to expect callers. Apparently Mrs. Montague was in the garden at the back, and they were invited to join her. The house was elegant and expensive, although Charlotte’s practiced eye could see tiny economies, a mend in the fringe of a lampshade, a cushion whose upholstery had obviously been turned, the new piece from the underside darker against the faded wings. She had done the same herself and knew the signs.
Selena was sitting in a wicker chaise lounge, her arms dangling over the sides, her face lifted upward, but protected from the harsh sun by a floppy, flower-decked hat. She had excellent features, although her nose was perhaps a trifle sharp. Her eyes were wide and brown, long lashed, and she opened them with intense interest when she saw Charlotte.
“My dear Selena,” Emily began in her best voice. “How charming you look, and so cool! May I present my sister, Charlotte Pitt, who has called upon me?”
Selena did not move, but surveyed Charlotte with barely disguised curiosity. Charlotte had an unpleasant feeling that nothing had been missed, from her rather worn best boots to every pin in her dress.
“How delightful,” Selena said at last. “So,” she glanced down at Charlotte’s boots again “-considerate-of you to have come. I am sure we shall all enjoy your company.”
Charlotte felt her temper rise instantly. Above all things she hated to be patronized.
“I hope I shall also enjoy yours,” she said with a cool smile.
The implication was not missed by Selena, and from the pressure of Emily’s fingers on her arm Charlotte knew that she too had taken the point.
“You must come and dine with us sometime,” Selena went on. “These summer evenings are so warm we frequently eat out here. The strawberries are quite delicious this year, don’t you think so?”
Strawberries were utterly beyond Charlotte’s budgeting.
“Very sweet,” she agreed. “Perhaps it is the sun.”
“No doubt,” Selena was not interested in where they came from. She looked up at Emily. “Please sit down. I’m sure you would like some refreshment, you must be dreadfully hot-” Charlotte saw Emily’s face tighten at the implication, and her cheeks did look flushed. “Perhaps a sherbet?” Selena smiled. “And you, Mrs. Pitt? Something cooling?”
“Whatever you care for yourself, Mrs. Montague,” Charlotte put in before Emily could speak. “I would not wish to put you to inconvenience.”
“I assure you it is no inconvenience!” Selena said with a touch of tartness. She reached out and rang a small bell on the table, and its sharp sound was answered by a maid in starched white. Selena gave elaborate orders. Then she turned to Emily again. “Have you seen poor Jessamyn?”
Emily sat in a white wrought-iron chair, and Charlotte perched on another beside her, carefully, so as not to burst a pin.
“No,” Emily replied. “I did leave my card, of course, and a small letter to express my condolences.”
Selena struggled to hide her disappointment and failed.
“Pour soul,” she murmured. “She must be feeling quite dreadful. One simply cannot imagine it! I hoped perhaps you had seen her and could tell me something.”
Emily knew immediately that Selena had not seen her either and was consumed with curiosity.
“One doesn’t even wish to try,” She shivered. “I’m sure she has the sympathy of absolutely everyone. I have no doubt each of us will call upon her in the next weeks, it would be inhuman not to. Even gentlemen will call, I’m sure. It would be the least they could do to comfort her.”
The nostrils flared on Selena’s sharp little nose.
“I would not have thought any comfort possible after one’s sister-in-law has been violated practically on one’s doorstep and has staggered in to die literally in one’s arms.” There was an unspecified criticism of Emily in her tone. “I think I should retire altogether if such a thing happened to me. I might even become quite deranged.” She said it very certainly, as if she were in no doubt that such a thing had already happened to Jessamyn.
“Good gracious!” Emily affected horror. “Surely you don’t imagine it will happen again, do you? I didn’t even know you had a sister-in-law.”
“I don’t!” Selena snapped. “I was merely saying how I sympathize with poor Jessamyn, and that we must not expect too much of her. We must be understanding if she seems a little odd-at least I am sure I shall be.”
“I’m sure you will, my dear.” Emily leaned forward, her voice cooing. “I’m sure you would never intentionally be unkind to anyone.”
Charlotte wondered if Emily were not giving her credit for rather many “accidents.”
“It must be very difficult to know what to say,” Charlotte suggested. “I should not know whether avoiding the subject might seem as if I were indifferent to her loss, or then on the other hand discussing it might appear like curiosity, which would be so vulgar.”
Selena’s face hardened, taking the inference perfectly.
