Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [16]
She could think of nothing more to be done, and yet she could not sit down or relax in the slightest. It was a little before ten o’clock, and she could not expect even the earliest guests, those who quite pointedly felt they had somewhere better to finish the evening, to arrive for another hour.
Jack was in his evening clothes ready to receive his guests, and had gone into his study to ponder over the information he had been given on various people’s political interests, relationships and spheres of influence. There was plenty of time for Charlotte to go upstairs again and see Emily, and assure her one more time that everyone would understand her absence, and the whole evening would be an excellent success because her foresight and planning had been so thorough.
She went slowly up the great winding staircase, lifting her skirts so as not to trip on them, and along the balcony above, which was now decked with flowers. In another hour she would be standing there welcoming the guests and explaining herself, and Emily’s absence. Please heaven she would remember what the footman at the door had said were their names, or they would have the tact to introduce themselves again!
Up the next flight she turned left along the landing to Emily’s room. She knocked briefly and went in. Emily was lying on top of the bed in a loose, pale-blue-and-green peignoir, her fair hair over her shoulders. Her face was unusually pale and a trifle pinched around the nose and mouth. She smiled rather wanly as Charlotte came in and sat down on the bed beside her.
“Ah, my dear,” Charlotte said gently. “You do look wretched. I’m so sorry.”
“It’ll pass,” Emily said with more hope than conviction. “It wasn’t nearly so bad with Edward. I felt a trifle squeamish some mornings, but it was gone by ten or eleven o’clock at the very worst. Did you feel like this with Jemima or Daniel? If you did you were very stoic. I never knew it.”
“No I didn’t,” Charlotte admitted. “In fact for the first two or three months I felt better than ever. But you are very early yet. This might not last more than a few weeks.”
“Weeks.” Emily’s blue eyes were full of disgust. “But I’ve so much to do! This is the beginning of the season and I must give balls, receptions, and attend the races at Ascot, the Henley Regatta, the Eton and Harrow cricket match, and endless luncheons, dinners and teas.” She slid down in the bed a little, hunching herself. “Jack won’t get the candidacy if they think his wife’s an invalid. The competition is terribly hot. Fitz Fitzherbert is highly suitable, and under all that devastating charm I think he might be quite clever.”
“Don’t meet disaster halfway,” Charlotte said, trying to comfort her. “No doubt Mr. Fitzherbert will have his problems as well, it is simply that we do not know of them. But then it is our business to see that he does not know of ours. Let us just get this evening over successfully, and by next week you may feel much better. Everything is in good order, the table looks like a Dutch still life—it seems a shame to touch it.”
“What about the band?” Emily said anxiously. “Are they here? Are they properly dressed, and sober?”
“Of course they are,” Charlotte assured her. “They are immaculate, all in black with lovely blue sashes. And yes, they are perfectly sober—I think. Maybe one of the fiddlers was a touch more cheerful than is warranted so far, but quite well behaved. You have no cause for concern, I promise you.”
“I’m very grateful. But Charlotte, please, do be sweet to everyone.” She reached out her hand and took Charlotte’s. “However fatuous they are, or condescending, or whatever objectionable opinions they express? We cannot afford to offend them if Jack is to succeed. He is so new in the political arena. And some of the oddest people are highly influential.”
Charlotte put her hand on her heart. “I promise I will be the essence of tact and will neither express an undignified or unasked-for opinion about anything, nor laugh at anything at all except what was