Bedford Square - Anne Perry [60]
However, there were certain advantages to high birth and the passage of time. When Vespasia chose to break the rules no one complained, except those who would like to have done so themselves but did not dare to, and they made their comments very quietly—and if overheard, denied them.
Fortunately, this was not an “at home” day. Mrs. White was without company, and a somewhat startled maid took Vespasia’s card and returned a few moments later to say that Mrs. White would receive them.
Charlotte was too concerned about the issues which had brought them there to take anything but the slightest notice of the house or its furnishings. She had a fleeting impression of heavy, gold-framed pictures, rather a lot of carved oak and curtains with fringes.
In the withdrawing room, Marguerite White stood near a chaise longue covered with cushions, rather as if she had just risen from it. She was slender and pale, with a mass of dark hair. Her eyes were hollow, heavy lidded, her brows delicate. She was a beautiful woman, but Charlotte’s most powerful impression was that she was not strong and the slightest exertion would tire her. She was dressed in a dark muslin gown, which was obviously not what she would have chosen had she expected callers.
A greater surprise was that her husband was standing behind her. He was only a little taller than she, a trifle portly now, and broad shouldered. But in spite of his ample frame and genial features, he looked as if he, too, had been ill. There was no color in his skin, and the shadows under his eyes were dark.
“Vespasia! How charming of you to call.” He made an effort to be courteous, and a genuine good nature was unmistakable in his voice. Nevertheless, he could not entirely conceal that he was puzzled to see her, and of course he was unacquainted with Charlotte.
Vespasia greeted him with warmth and made the appropriate introductions. All the usual remarks were made about health and weather, and tea was offered, although no one expected it to be accepted at this hour.
“Thank you,” Vespasia said with a smile, sitting down on the wide sofa and arranging her skirts with the merest flick of her hand, indicating that she fully intended to stay.
Marguerite looked startled, but there was nothing she could do about it short of extreme rudeness, and it had been apparent from her first response to Vespasia that she was fond of her, and perhaps a little in awe.
Charlotte sat down nervously. What could she possibly say in this absurd but desperately important situation? Something flattering but innocuous. She glanced out of the window.
“What a delightful garden you have, Mrs. White.”
Marguerite looked relieved. It must be a subject that gave her pleasure. Her face eased of some of its tension; her eyes brightened.
“Do you like it?” she asked eagerly. “I wish it were larger, but we do what we can to give the illusion of space.”
“You succeed admirably.” Charlotte was able to say it with sincerity. “I should love to have such a skill, or perhaps I should say an art? I doubt it is something which can be learned.”
“Would you like to see it more closely?” Marguerite offered.
It was precisely what Vespasia had most hoped for and intended to bring about were she able. Charlotte had accomplished it within the first few minutes of their visit.
Charlotte turned to her. Enquiring if it were acceptable was a necessary courtesy.
Vespasia smiled, but casually, as if it were of no importance.
“By all means, my dear. I should go while the sun is out and you can enjoy it to its very best advantage. I am sure Mrs. White will be willing to allow you to look at it closely enough to see the delicacy of the details.”
“Of course,” Marguerite agreed. “It is one virtue most gardeners possess: we all love to show off, but we seldom mind sharing