Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [126]
“Shall I come with you?” Fitz offered, then realized he had overstepped propriety. He was still with Odelia, at least in fact, if not at heart. He blushed at his own most uncharacteristic awkwardness.
“Oh no—thank you.” Fanny at least remembered herself so far as to decline, no matter how much she might have wished it; although Charlotte, looking at the quite sudden unhappiness in her eyes, thought perhaps she did not wish it after all.
Odelia opened her mouth to offer, then thought better of it.
Regina Cars well, who had daughters of her own and was quite used to such sudden feelings of faintness with all their causes, took charge of the situation.
“I shall come with you,” she said firmly. “I could do with a moment’s air myself. And if you feel faint, it is better that you should not be alone, just in case you trip.”
“Oh please,” Fanny said in something approaching distress. “I shall be perfectly all right, please believe me. It was only a moment—I should not dream of troubling you—”
“It is no trouble, my dear,” Regina said with a smile which gave an unusual radiance to her otherwise ordinary face. “I have already contributed anything I can to the conversation, and I shall be no loss to it. Come—we shall have a few minutes in the air before going to the dining room.” And taking Fanny’s arm she excused them and gently but irresistibly escorted her towards the French doors at the far end of the room.
Carswell cleared his throat uncomfortably and stared at no one.
Charlotte was suddenly furious with him for having taken a young mistress and betraying a woman of such innate kindness as Regina. What was a little laughter and a pretty face, compared with the years shared, the understanding and the loyalty of his wife? Perhaps she was a little domestic at times, not always as glamorous and sometimes boring. For goodness sake, no doubt so was he.
“How very kind of Mrs. Carswell,” she said with an edge to her voice, gazing at him very directly. “Surely the most precious of all virtues, don’t you think?”
Odelia looked at her in amazement. The remark was totally uncalled for and she was confused by the vehemence of it, in fact by the making of it at all.
“Why—er—indeed,” Carswell said uncomfortably. “Yes—to be sure.”
Charlotte realized she had spoken unaccountably, but she had left herself nowhere to retreat.
“Was not Miss Hilliard at the Royal Academy exhibition?” she said apropos of nothing, simply to fill the silence.
“Indeed?” Odelia seized the straw to join in. “We also were there—” Suddenly she realized how the “we” was no longer true in the way it had been then, and her voice died away, thick with unhappiness, her face flushed.
“There were some very fine pictures, don’t you think?” Charlotte was not insensitive to her pain; indeed she felt a pity for it which surprised her with its depth. She merely wanted to cover it for her so it was not added to by being public. “There was one of a bowl of lilies I found especially attractive.”
“I don’t recall it.” Fitz dragged his attention back with an effort.
That was hardly surprising since Charlotte had invented it for something to say. However she now proceeded to describe the mythical picture in detail, and it carried over the time until everyone began to recover themselves and conversation resumed as normal. A few minutes later dinner was announced and they parted to find the person with whom they had been assigned to enter the dining room. It would be unpardonable to go in with the wrong person. It would throw everything out of order and be a social gaffe of the worst sort. There was the strictest etiquette in such things, and Charlotte went in on the arm of Peter Valerius.
At the table Emily had granted Charlotte’s request, and she was seated between Addison Carswell, on her left, and Lord Byam to her right.
The first course was soup; the second fish, a choice of deviled whitebait or smelts. She picked delicately at it. Ladies were not expected to be able to eat everything served