A Christmas Homecoming - Anne Perry [5]
It was Alice who finally spoke, turning to face Joshua.
“It would be terrible if you were to leave, Mr. Fielding. You are most welcome here. In fact, we cannot possibly succeed without you—either with the play, or with being the kind of hosts we wish to be. How could we celebrate Christmas if we were to turn anyone away into the snow, let alone our own guests, who have come here specifically to help us?”
Netheridge winced, but so slightly Caroline would not have noticed it had she not been watching him.
Eliza let out her breath in a low sigh.
Douglas Paterson was clearly appalled.
“You’ll make an actress yet,” Vincent said drily. “I look forward to working with you.”
“Liar.” Lydia mouthed the word soundlessly.
“This pork is delicious,” James remarked to no one in particular. “It must be local.”
“Thank you,” Eliza murmured. She did not correct him that it was mutton.
he meal finished with stilted conversation and very occasional nervous laughter. Afterward, Caroline found herself being shown the rest of the very large house by Alice Netheridge and Douglas Paterson. The tour began very formally, as a matter of courtesy. None of them had been particularly interested, but it was an easy thing to do, and filled the time until it would be acceptable to excuse themselves and retire to bed.
Alice was clearly eager to make up for the earlier discomfort, although it had had nothing to do with her.
“Do let me show you the stage,” she said eagerly. “It was originally designed for music: trios and quartets and that sort of thing. One of my aunts played the cello, or the viola, I can’t remember. Grandmama said she was very talented, but of course it was not the sort of thing a lady did, except for the entertainment of her own family.” She glanced at Caroline as she said the words, her soft face pulled into an expression of impatience.
“She was thinking of her daughter’s welfare,” Douglas pointed out from behind her as they walked along the broad corridor. The walls were hung with paintings of Yorkshire coastal scenery. Some were very dark but, looking at them, Caroline thought it was more probable that time had dulled the varnish, rather than that the artists had intended them to be so forbidding.
“She was thinking of the family’s reputation for being proper,” Alice corrected him. “It was all about what the neighbors would think.”
“You can’t live in society without neighbors, Alice,” he replied. He sounded patient, but Caroline saw the flicker of irritation in his face—at least that was what she thought it was. “You have to make some accommodation to their feelings.”
“I will not have my life ruled by my neighbors’ prejudices,” Alice retorted. “Poor Aunt Delia did and never played her viola, or whatever it was, except in the theater here.” Without realizing it, she increased her pace. Caroline was obliged to lengthen her strides to keep up with her.
“I imagine she still gave a great deal of pleasure.” Caroline tried to imagine the frustration of the young woman she had never known, and wondered if Alice had actually known her well, or whether she was simply projecting her own frustrations into her aunt’s story.
Alice did not reply.
“She married very happily and had several children,” Douglas put in, catching up with Caroline and walking beside her. “There is no need whatsoever to feel sorry for her. She was an excellent woman.”
Alice turned around to face him, stopping so abruptly that he very nearly walked into her.
Caroline thought of her own second daughter, Charlotte, who was willful, full of spirit and fire like Alice, and impossible to deter from following her own path, however awkward the path may be. She had married far beneath herself socially, but since the marriage, her husband, Thomas, had risen spectacularly. Charlotte had always been happy: in her own way, perhaps the happiest of all Caroline’s daughters.
Caroline looked