Bedford Square - Anne Perry [88]
What little color there was blanched from Theodosia’s cheeks. She sat down suddenly in the chair opposite Vespasia, who naturally had not risen.
“Oh, dear. Is it so apparent? I thought I had disguised it rather better than that.”
Vespasia relented. “From most people, I daresay. But I have known you since you were born. Also,” she added, “I have fashioned a few repairs to the appearance myself, well enough to know how they are done.”
“I am afraid I have not been sleeping very well,” Theodosia said, looking at Vespasia, then away again. “Silly, but perhaps I am coming to the time of life when late nights are not as easy to accommodate as they used to be. I hate to admit that.”
“My dear,” Vespasia said very gently, “late nights are usually followed by late mornings, and you are in an excellent position to sleep until noon, if you so wish. If you do not sleep well, it is because you are ill, or something is worrying you too profoundly to allow you to forget it, even in your bed. I rather think it is the latter.”
It was clear in Theodosia’s face that she meant to deny it; it was so plain she might almost have spoken. Then she met Vespasia’s unwavering gaze. Her resistance crumpled, but nevertheless she did not explain.
“May I tell you something about a friend of mine?” Vespasia enquired.
“Of course.” Theodosia relaxed a little. The immediate pressure had been removed from her. She sat back in the chair, preparing to listen, her skirts in an elegant swirl around her, her eyes on Vespasia’s face.
“I shall not tell you a great deal about his history or circumstances,” Vespasia began. “Because for reasons which will become apparent, I prefer to keep you from guessing his name. He might not mind in the slightest your knowing his predicament, but that is not my decision to make.”
Theodosia nodded. “I understand. Tell me only what you wish.”
“He is a military man of distinguished service,” Vespasia began, never taking her eyes from Theodosia’s face. “He has now retired, but his career was long and honorable. He had great courage and qualities of leadership. He was held in high esteem, both by friends and by those who liked him less, for whatever reason.”
Theodosia was attending closely, but with no more than polite interest. It was a great deal easier than being questioned as to her own anxieties. The hands in her lap were loosely folded, the pearl-and-emerald ring catching the light.
“He has had his share of personal grief,” Vespasia continued. “As most of us do. However, lately something quite new has happened, without the slightest warning.”
“I’m sorry,” Theodosia sympathized. It was clear in her wide eyes that she expected some domestic discord, or possibly financial reverse, the sort of misfortune which can afflict most people.
Vespasia’s voice did not alter. “He received a letter, anonymous of course, cut from words in the Times newspaper ….” She saw Theodosia stiffen and her hands lock, but she affected not to have noticed. “It was very plainly and articulately phrased, accusing him of cowardice in the face of the enemy, a great many years previously, during one of our lesser foreign campaigns.”
Theodosia swallowed, her breath rapid, as if she were struggling to gain sufficient air and this warm and pleasant room were actually suffocating her. She started to say something and then changed her mind.
Vespasia hated going on, but if she stopped now she would have served no purpose and helped no one.
“The threat to disclose the details of this incident, entirely false, was quite plain,” she said. “As was the ruin it would bring, not only to my friend but of course to his family. He is quite innocent of the charge, but it is all so long ago, and happened in a foreign land with which we now have little connection, so it will be well-nigh impossible to verify it. It is always harder to prove that something did not happen than that it did.”
Theodosia was very white, her body so stiff beneath her smoky-blue dress that the fabric seemed strained.
“The curious thing,” Vespasia went on in the silence, “is that