Loretta stared at her, eyes careful, steady, almost warning, a tight smile on her lips. “My dear girl-”
“How generous of you.” Charlotte immediately wished she had not stepped in: it might have been more productive to let the scene play itself out. She should have thought more of detection and less of friendship. But it was too late now. “I am sure we should enjoy your company, especially if we take a walk in the park.” She thought of the raw wind slicing in off the open grass and whining through the wet, leafless trees.
But Loretta was not to be deterred so easily. “I think, Miss Barnaby, that when you step outside you will change your mind, but if that is what you wish then I shall wait in the carriage for you.”
“You’ll freeze!” Veronica said desperately.
“I am much stronger than you think, my dear,” Loretta replied levelly, and as Veronica turned away Charlotte was startled to see tears in her eyes. What was this emotion between these two women? Veronica was afraid; Charlotte had seen fear often enough to know. And yet Veronica was not naturally submissive, and now that Robert was dead she ought to have no need to cater to his feelings for his mother. Financially she was secure, and she was all but engaged to marry again. Why was she so afraid? Everything Loretta had done, at least on the surface, had been in her interest.
If only Charlotte could learn what sort of a marriage it had been, how it had begun. Had Loretta adored her only son, and had she been too demanding of her daughter-in-law? Had she interfered, criticized, been open in her disappointment because there had been no grandchildren? There could be a dozen passions or griefs behind the driving emotion that bound these two women.
The tense silence in the room was broken when the door opened and Piers York came in. Charlotte had not met him before, but she knew him immediately from Pitt’s description: elegant, a trifle stooping, face wry with self-deprecatory good humor.
“Ah!” he said with slight surprise on seeing Charlotte.
Veronica forced a smile; it was ghastly, a travesty of pleasure.
“Papa-in-law, this is Miss Barnaby, a new friend of mine who has been good enough to call. We were going to take a short drive.”
“What an excellent idea,” he agreed. “Rather cold, but better than sitting inside all day. How do you do, Miss Barnaby.”
“How do you do, Mr. York,” Charlotte replied warmly. He was the sort of man she liked without needing to think about it. “I’m so glad you approve. Mrs. York”-she glanced at Loretta-“was afraid we should not enjoy it because it is so chill outside, but I feel exactly as you do, that whatever the weather it is better to go out for a little while, even if only to better appreciate the fire when we return.”
“What a sensible young woman.” He smiled. “I have no idea why fashion so admires the drooping young creatures who lie about being bored with everything. They have no idea how tedious they are. I pity the man who is naive enough to marry one of them. Still, I suppose they are all taking a pig in a poke anyway!”
“Piers!” Loretta said tartly. “Please keep that sort of unfortunate language for your club! It has no place here. You will offend Miss Barnaby.”
He looked surprised. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Barnaby, did I offend you? I assure you I only meant that one can get very little idea of a person’s true nature from the sort of social twitterings that are all one is allowed before marriage.”
Charlotte smiled broadly. “I am not in the least offended. I know precisely what you mean. And then when you do discover, of course it is too late. Mrs. York was just saying that if we come to call upon the Danvers it would be necessary for Veronica to be chaperoned. But I would be quite happy to make sure nothing is done that could be remarked upon, I give you my word.”
“I am sure you mean well, Miss Barnaby, but that is not sufficient for Society,” Loretta said firmly.
“Nonsense,” Piers contradicted her. “Perfectly all right. Anyway, who would know about it? Harriet certainly isn’t going to say anything.”
“It would be as well if I were to go with you,” she insisted, taking a step towards the door. “This is a most delicate time.”
“For heaven’s sake stop fussing, Loretta!” he said with unusual sharpness. “You worry over Veronica far too much. Danver’s a decent enough fellow, and no stick-in-the-mud. Miss Barnaby is perfectly adequate as a chaperone, and it’s good of her to oblige.”
“Piers, you don’t understand.” Loretta’s voice grated with the power of her emotion. “I wish you would accept my judgment. There is far more to this than you realize.”
“About a carriage ride?” His disbelief was tinged with annoyance.
Her face was white. “There are delicacies, things that. .”
“Indeed? What, for example?”
She was angry, but she had no answer that she was prepared to give him.
Charlotte looked at Veronica, wondering whether the brief escape would be worth the unpleasantness which would undoubtedly follow.
“Come, Elisabeth,” Veronica said without looking at Loretta. “We shall not be long, but it will be good for us to go out.”
Charlotte excused herself and followed Veronica out into the hallway. She waited a few moments while the footman was dispatched to fetch Veronica’s cloak and muff, and Veronica herself went to change her boots.
The withdrawing room door was ajar.
“You know nothing whatever about that young woman!” Loretta’s voice rose angrily. “Most unsuitable. Brash. Totally unsophisticated!”
“She seemed very pleasant to me,” Piers answered. “In fact, altogether attractive.”
“For heaven’s sake, Piers! Just because she has a handsome face. Really, you are so naive sometimes.”
“And you, my dear, see complications where there are none.”
“I anticipate, which is not the same thing.”
“It is very often exactly the same thing.”
Charlotte was prevented from overhearing any more by Veronica’s return. Emily came downstairs, too, with a cloak over her arm. At first Charlotte hardly recognized her; she looked so different with her hair under a cap, wearing a blue stuff dress with no bustle and a plain apron over it. She looked thinner than before, although it was probably the clothes, and terribly pale. Their eyes met only for a moment, Emily’s wide and very blue, then Veronica put on the cloak. Emily smoothed it over her shoulders, and Charlotte and Veronica went out of the front door as Albert held it open for them.
The drive was chilly, even with rugs over their knees, but it was exhilarating to be bowling along at a good pace with fashionable streets, wide avenues, and squares passing their windows. For a moment Veronica turned, her eyes almost black in the carriage interior, her lips parted, but Charlotte knew where Veronica wanted to go before she could ask.
“Of course,” she said quickly.
Veronica clasped her hand inside the muff. “Thank you.”
They were received without surprise at the Danver house and shown into the withdrawing room. Since Charlotte had written to Veronica two days ago, it was possible Veronica had written to Julian, and they were expected. Julian Danver himself was there and greeted them, taking Veronica’s hands and holding them warmly for a moment before turning to Charlotte.
“How charming to see you again, Miss Barnaby.” He smiled at her. His gaze was very direct, and Charlotte remembered how much she had liked him. “I am sure you remember my aunt, Miss Danver? And my sister Harriet?”
“Of course,” she said quickly, looking first at Aunt Adeline, whose thin, intelligent face regarded her with interest, and then at Harriet. This afternoon she seemed paler than before; there was a deep shadow of unhappiness behind her answering look. “I hope you are well.”
“Very well, thank you, and you?”
All the usual greetings were exchanged and the polite, meaningless topics of conversation touched upon. It was the sort of formal ritual Charlotte had been used to as a girl but had been able to cast aside after her marriage. Indeed with the dramatic fall in her social standing, the opportunity had been removed from her, a loss she had been grateful for. She had never been skilled at it, her own opinions far too ready on her tongue. No one wanted them: it was unseemly for a woman to be opinionated, and a great deal of feminine charm lay in listening and
