suitable for visiting. Emily was more than a little irritated when the maid came to announce them. She even debated with herself whether to say she was unavailable, but since they were close neighbors, and she was obliged to meet with them regularly, it was better not to give offense, in spite of this extraordinary behavior.
They came in in a cloud of yellow, which was peculiarly unbecoming on both of them, although for entirely different reasons. On Miss Laetitia it was too sallow, giving her skin a jaundiced look; on Miss Lucinda it clashed with her sandy yellow hair, lending her the appearance of a rather fierce little bird far gone in the process of moulting. She trailed bright wisps behind her as she bounced into the room, her eyes fixed on Emily.
“Good afternoon, Emily, my dear.” She was unusually informal, in fact verging on the familiar.
“Good afternoon, Miss Horbury,” Emily said coolly. “What a pleasant surprise”-she emphasized the word “surprise”-“to see you.” She smiled distantly at Miss Laetitia, who was standing somewhat reluctantly a little further back.
Miss Lucinda sat down without being invited.
Emily was not going to offer them refreshment at this time in the afternoon. Had neither of them any sense of propriety?
“It doesn’t look as if the police are going to discover anything,” Miss Lucinda remarked, settling herself deeper the chair. “I don’t think they have any idea, myself.”
“They wouldn’t tell us if they had,” Miss Laetitia said to no one in particular. “Why should they?”
Emily sat down, resigned to being civil, at least for a while.
“I’ve no idea,” she said wearily.
Miss Lucinda leaned forward.
“I think there is something going on!”
“Do you?” Emily did not know whether to laugh or be cross.
“Yes, I do! And I mean to discover what it is! I have visited this Walk every Season since I was a girl!”
Emily did not know what answer was expected to this. “Indeed?” she said noncommittally.
“And what is more,” Miss Lucinda continued, “I think it is something perfectly scandalous, and it is our duty to put a stop to it!”
“Yes.” Emily was floundering now. “It would be.”
“I think it is something to do with that Frenchman,” Miss Lucinda said with conviction.
Miss Laetitia shook her head.
“Lady Tamworth says it is the Jew.”
Emily blinked. “What Jew?”
“Why, Mr. Isaacs, of course!” Miss Lucinda was losing patience. “But that is nonsense. Nobody would entertain him, except for business necessities. I think it has to do with those parties at Lord Dilbridge’s. I don’t know how poor Grace bears all of it.”
“All of what?” Emily asked. She was not sure whether there was anything remotely worth listening to in all this.
“All that goes on! Really, Emily, my dear, you must concern yourself with what occurs in your immediate neighborhood, you know. How else can we control it? It is up to us to see that standards are maintained!”
“She has always been very concerned about standards,” Miss Laetitia put in.
“It’s as well!” Miss Lucinda snapped. “Someone needs to be, and there are more than enough of us who are not!”
“I have no idea what is going on.” Emily was a little embarrassed by the obvious meaning between them. “I do not go to the parties at the Dilbridges’, and quite honestly, I didn’t know that they hold any more than most people do in the summer.”
“My dear, neither do I actually ‘go’ to them. And I dare say they don’t. But it’s not the number, it is the nature that matters. I tell you, Emily, my dear, there is something very strange going on, and I mean to uncover it!”
“I would be careful, if I were you,” Emily felt obliged to caution her. “Remember that there have been very tragic occurrences. Do not place yourself in danger.” She was thinking rather more of the sensitivities of those Miss Lucinda might press with her curiosity than of any peril to Lucinda herself.
Miss Lucinda stood up, thrusting out her bosom.
“I am of dauntless courage when I see my duty clearly before me. And I shall expect your help, if you discover anything of importance!”
“Oh, indeed,” Emily agreed, knowing perfectly well she would consider nothing that entered Miss Lucinda’s realm of “duty” important.
“Good! Now I must call on poor Grace.”
And before Emily could find suitable words to point out the lateness of the hour, she gathered Miss Laetitia in her wake and swept out.
Emily was standing outside in the garden at dusk, her face upward toward the evening breeze, the frail, sweet scent of roses and mignonette drifting across the dry grass. There was a single, brilliant star out already, although the sky was blue-gray and there was still color in the west.
She was thinking about Charlotte, knowing she had no garden, no room for flowers, and feeling a little guilty that chance had given her so much for no effort of her own. She determined to find a graceful way of sharing it a little more, without making Charlotte feel aware of it-or Pitt. Apart from the fact that he was Charlotte’s husband, Emily liked Pitt for himself.
She was standing quite still, facing the breeze, when it happened, a shrill, tearing scream that went on and on, shattering the night. It reverberated in the stillness, then came again, sickeningly, thick-throated.
Emily froze, her skin crawling. The evening was heavy with silence.
Then somewhere there was a shout.
Emily moved, picking up her skirts and running back into the house, through the withdrawing room, the hall, and out of the front door, shouting for the butler and the footman.
Out in the front driveway she stopped. Lights were coming on along the Walk, and a man’s voice was calling out two hundred yards away.
Then she saw Selena. She was running along the middle of the road, her hair ragged down her back and the bosom of her dress ripped open, showing white flesh.
Emily started toward her. Already she knew in her heart what it was. There was no need to wait for Selena’s gasping, sobbing words.
She fell into Emily’s arms.
“I’ve been — violated!”
“Hush!” Emily held on to her hard. “Hush!” She was talking meaninglessly, but it was the sound of a voice that mattered. “You’re safe now. Come on, come inside.” Gently she led her, weeping, across the carriageway and up the stairs.
Inside she closed the withdrawing room door and sat her down. The servants were all outside, searching for the man, any stranger, anyone who could not explain themselves-although it did occur fleetingly to Emily that all the man need do was join in the hunt to pass into virtual invisibility!
Maybe when she had time to think, to compose herself, Selena would say less, be embarrassed or unclear.
Emily knelt down in front of her, taking her hands.
“What happened?” she said firmly. “Who was it?”
Selena lifted her face, flushed, her eyes wide and glittering.
“It was awful!” she whispered. “Violent hunger, like nothing I’ve ever known! I shall feel it-and smell it-as long as I live!”
“Who was it?” Emily repeated.
“He was tall,” Selena said slowly. “And slender. And God, how strong he was!”
“Who!”
“I-oh, Emily, you must swear before God you will say nothing-swear!”
“Why?”
“Because,” she swallowed hard, her body shivering, her eyes enormous, “I–I think it was Monsieur Alaric, but- but I cannot be sure. You must swear, Emily! If you accuse him, and you are wrong, we shall both be in terrible
