Bethlehem Road - Anne Perry [72]
“Nonsense!” he said, good-natured but totally dismissive. “You don’t want to be bothered with the details and administration of the estate, and with learning new terms. Law is very difficult and complex for a woman, my dear. Allow your man of affairs to ascertain that everything is in order, as I am sure it is—Lockwood was meticulous about such things—and I will explain to you what it means, what you have, and advise you what steps to take, if any. I doubt there will be much to alter. You should have a holiday, get away from this tragedy, calm your mind and your spirits. It will be good for you in all ways. Believe me, my dear, I still remember my own bereavement clearly enough.” His face became shadowed with a memory he did not share except by implication, and Amethyst offered no sympathy. The loss must have been old, or crowded out by her own so current wound.
“Spend a few weeks in Aldeburgh.” He looked at her, his distress replaced by solicitude again. “Walk by the sea, take the fresh air, visit with pleasant people and talk of country ways. Get away from London until all this business is over.”
She turned away from him and looked out of the small space in the window that was clear beneath the blinds.
“I don’t think I wish to.”
“Be advised, my dear,” he said quite gently, putting the papers in his pocket. “After what has happened you need a complete change. I’m sure Jasper would say the same.”
“I’m sure he would!” she said instantly. “He always agrees with you! That does not make him right. I do not wish to leave at the moment, and I will not be pushed!”
He shook his head.
“You are very stubborn, Amethyst. One might almost say willful; not an attractive quality in a woman. You make it very difficult to do what is best for you.”
He reminded Charlotte of her father with his blind care, his determination to protect, and at the same time his complete unawareness of the root of one’s feelings, of what one might be thinking or dreaming that had nothing to do with the ordinariness of the conversation.
“I appreciate your concern, Garnet,” Amethyst said, obviously struggling to keep her patience. “I am not ready to leave yet. When I am I shall ask you, and if your invitation is still open, then I shall be grateful to accept. Until then I am remaining here in Royal Street. And please put those deeds back. It is time I learned what they are and how to administer the properties myself. I am a widow and had better learn how to conduct myself like one.”
“You conduct yourself excellently, my dear. Jasper and I will take care of your affairs and counsel you, and of course all legal and financial matters will be dealt with by people of those professions. And in time you may wish to marry again, and we shall keep suitable people in mind.”
“I do not wish to marry again!”
“Of course you don’t, now. It would hardly be seemly, even if it were desired. But in a year or two ...”
She swung round to face him. “Garnet, for goodness’ sake listen to me for once! I intend to become familiar with my own affairs!”
He was exasperated by her obduracy, her blind refusal to be sensible, but he maintained his even tone and composed expression in spite of all provocation. “You are being most unwise, but I daresay when you have had a little more time you will realize that. Naturally you are still suffering the first shock of your bereavement. I do know how you feel, my dear. Of course, Naomi died from scarlet fever”—his brow furrowed—“but the extraordinary sense of disbelief and loss is the same, whatever the cause.”
For a moment Amethyst’s eyes opened wide in surprise, then some memory returned, confusing her further, and incredulity and pity filled her face. But he seemed to read none of it. He was absorbed with his own thoughts and plans.
“I shall call again in a day or two.” He turned to Charlotte, recalling her presence. “Very courteous of you to have come, Mrs.—er, Miss Ellison. Good day.”
“Good day, Sir Garnet,” she replied, standing up also. “I am sure it is time I was leaving.”
“Did you come in a