A Christmas Homecoming - Anne Perry [47]
The next person Caroline saw was Douglas Paterson. She found him on the landing, staring out at the snow. He turned as he heard her footsteps. He looked withdrawn and anxious.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Fielding,” he said, almost without expression. “Not long till dark again. Do you think we’ll have more snow tonight?”
She stood beside him and looked at the sky. The light was fading quite rapidly. It was barely past the shortest day of the year, but there was considerable color in the sunset. Banners of cloud streamed across the west, and the red of the sinking sun blushed on the snow.
“No, I don’t,” she answered. “I think we might even get a thaw soon, at least enough to allow people to reach us, perhaps in time for Christmas.”
“You can’t put on that play now, you know,” he said with just a trace of satisfaction.
Caroline was caught by an intense desire to both protect Alice’s dreams, and deflate this pompous young man.
“Not here,” she agreed. “At least certainly not this Christmas. But she has made such a good job of it that I think we may wish to perform it some time in the provinces, or even in London. After all, Dracula is a most popular work all over the country. And we could always bring it back to Yorkshire at a more appropriate time.” She saw his face pale and smiled at him sweetly. “Knowing how you love Alice and want her to be happy, I hope that is of comfort to you.”
He looked back at her with a fury that he was momentarily helpless to express.
“I am hoping we may forestall the police, at least to some extent,” she continued. “They are bound to ask us all where we were when Mr. Ballin was killed. Some of us are fortunate enough to have been with someone else at the time, and therefore our whereabouts are vouched for. Would that be true for you as well?”
She saw the anger turn to satisfaction in his eyes.
“Yes. I was with Miss Rye,” he said instantly.
There was nothing funny in their situation; still, she could not help allowing her eyebrows to rise as if in horror, though in truth she was not at all surprised. “Really?” she said in a breathless whisper. “And will Miss Rye be willing to say that publicly, do you suppose? I doubt Alice will be amused, and Mr. and Mrs. Netheridge will be most displeased indeed.”
His satisfaction vanished. He blushed scarlet with embarrassment and real, deep outrage.
“Your mind is most … deplorable, Mrs. Fielding!” His voice shook. “I dare say it is the company you keep.”
“I was with my husband, Mr. Paterson,” she replied, angry in turn now. “Or do I mistake you? Perhaps you had a chaperone you omitted to mention? Alice herself, even?”
He swallowed hard, his face still burning. “No … no, we were alone, in the morning room. We … we were discussing Alice’s love of the theater, and Miss Rye was assuring me that it is not nearly as glamorous as Alice assumes. She herself is weary of it, and envies Alice’s opportunity to settle down to a happy married life in a respectable society, with a husband and family.”
And money, Caroline thought, but she did not say so. It occurred to her how much more suitable it would be for everyone if Lydia married Douglas, and Alice came to London with the players. Lydia’s roles could be filled easily enough by another aspiring actress, and Alice would be an asset to the writing and producing side of the business. More important for both of them, and for Douglas, they would all be happier.
“It seems as if Lydia and Alice each desires what the other has,” Caroline said more gently. “Perhaps they should exchange places.”
“I can’t marry an actress!” Douglas said in horror. But even as the words left his lips there was a change in his attitude, a new brightness in his eyes. The anger seeped out of him as if by magic.
“Well, she isn’t an heiress, of course,” Caroline agreed. “But that has its advantages as well. There is something very liberating in owing no one, Mr. Paterson. I made a very rash judgment in marrying Mr. Fielding, but I have never regretted