Bethlehem Road - Anne Perry [70]
It was well after four when the parlormaid knocked and announced that Mr. Barclay Hamilton had called.
Amethyst’s skin drained of color and all the life left her eyes. In the midst of the recollections of happiness some pain had plunged right through her and brought back all her present loneliness and tragedy in its wake.
“Ask him to come in,” she said, forcing her voice a little. She turned to Charlotte. “My husband’s son by his first wife. I hope you do not mind? It will only be a matter of courtesy, and I do not wish you to feel as if you must leave.”
“But if it is a family matter,” Charlotte felt compelled by duty to offer, “might my presence not cause embarrassment? Surely—”
“No, not at all. We are not close. Indeed your presence may very well make it easier—for both of us.”
It was so clearly a plea, for all the formality of her words, that Charlotte felt excused to stay, and wished she had not been.
The parlormaid returned and showed in a man perhaps ten years younger than Amethyst, very lean, with a sensitive face now almost white with tension. He looked only momentarily at Charlotte, but she knew he was disconcerted to see her there, and it robbed him of what he had intended to say.
“Good afternoon,” he said uncertainly.
“Good afternoon, Barclay,” Amethyst replied coolly. She turned deliberately to Charlotte. “Mr. Barclay Hamilton, Miss Charlotte Ellison, who was kind enough to call in person to express her condolences.”
Barclay’s face softened in recognition of a generosity.
“How do you do, Miss Ellison.” Then before she could reply, he turned back to Amethyst and the moment was gone. “I apologize for calling at an inconvenient time. I brought a few papers regarding the estate.” He held them forward in his hand, not so much offering them to her as indicating the reason for his presence.
“Very good of you,” Amethyst replied. “But unnecessary. I was not anxious. You could have sent them and avoided the journey.”
He looked as if he had been slapped; then his mouth hardened. “They are not of a nature I’d trust to the penny post. Perhaps I did not make myself clear: they are land deeds and rental agreements.”
If Amethyst heard the edge in his voice she either refused to acknowledge it or did not care. “I am sure you are better equipped than I to deal with such things. You are, after all, the executor.” She did not offer him tea or make the slightest accommodation for him.
“And it is part of my duty to see that you are aware of the circumstances, and understand the properties you now own.” He was staring at her, and at last she met his eyes. The blood rushed up in her cheeks, then fled again, leaving her paler than before.
“Thank you for doing your duty.” She was polite now, but remote to the point that it became rudeness. “Of course, I would have expected no less of you.”
His tone was equally cold and punctilious. “Perhaps you will now do your own and look at them.”
Her body stiffened and her head came up. “I think you forget to whom you speak, Mr. Hamilton!”
There were white lines round his mouth forced by the pressure of his feeling, and the effort of self-control. When he spoke his voice shook. “I never forget who you are, madame. Never from the day we met have I forgotten most exactly who and what you are, as God is my judge.”
“If you have accomplished all you came to do,” she said very quietly, very levelly, “then I think it would be better if you were to leave. I wish you good afternoon.”
He inclined his head, first to Amethyst, then to Charlotte. “Good afternoon, ma’am; Miss Ellison.” And he turned sharply and marched out, pulling the door behind him with a bang.
For an instant Charlotte considered pretending nothing had happened, but even