Bluegate Fields - Anne Perry [15]
But then, according to Pitt, Waybourne was only a baronet, a very minor title—it could even have been bought in trade. Her own father was a banker and man of affairs; her mother might know Lady Waybourne. It was at least worth trying. If she could meet the Waybournes socially, when they were not guarding themselves against the vulgarity and intrusion of the police, she might learn something that would be of use to Pitt.
Naturally, they would be in mourning now, but there were always sisters or cousins, or even close friends—people who would, as a matter of course, know of relationships that would never be discussed with persons of the lower orders, such as professional investigators.
Accordingly, without mentioning it to Pitt, she took an omnibus just before lunch the following day and called on her mother at her home in Rutland Place.
“Charlotte, my dear!” Her mother was delighted to see her; it seemed she had completely forgiven her for that miserable affair over the Frenchman. There was nothing but warmth in Caroline’s face now. “Do stay for luncheon—Grandmama will be down in half an hour, and we shall have lunch. I am expecting Dominic any moment.” She hesitated, searching Charlotte’s eyes for any shadow of the old enchantment when she had been so in love with the husband of her eldest sister, Sarah, when Sarah was still alive. But she found nothing; indeed, Charlotte’s feelings for Dominic had long since faded into simple affection.
The anxiety disappeared. “It will be an excellent party. How are you, my dear? How are Jemima and Daniel?”
For some time they discussed family affairs. Charlotte could hardly launch instantly into inquiries her mother would be bound to disapprove of. She had always found Charlotte’s meddling in Pitt’s affairs both alarming and in the poorest possible taste.
There was a thump on the door. The maid opened it, and Grandmama swept in, wearing dourest black, her hair screwed up in a style that had been fashionable thirty years before, when society, in her opinion, had reached its zenith—it had been on the decline ever since. Her face was sharp with irritation. She eyed Charlotte up and down silently, then whacked the chair nearest to her with her stick to make sure it was precisely where she supposed, and sat down in it heavily.
“Didn’t know you were coming, child!” she observed. “Have you no manners to inform people? Don’t suppose you have a calling card either, eh? When I was young, a lady did not drop in to a person’s house without due notice, as if she were a piece of unsolicited postage! No one has any manners these days. And I take it you will be getting one of these contraptions with strings and bells, and the good Lord knows what else? Telephones! Talking to people on electric wires, indeed!” She sniffed loudly. “Since dear Prince Albert died, all moral sensibility has declined. It is the Prince of Wales’s fault—the scandals one hears are enough to make one faint! What about Mrs. Langtry? No better than she should be, I’ll be bound!” She squinted at Charlotte, her eyes bright and angry.
Charlotte ignored the matter of the Prince of Wales and returned to the question of the telephone.
“No, Grandmama, they are very expensive—and, for me, quite unnecessary.”
“Quite unnecessary for anyone!” Grandmama snorted. “Lot of nonsense! What’s wrong with a perfectly good letter?” She swiveled a little to glare at Charlotte face to face. “Though you always wrote a shocking hand! Emily was the only one of you who could handle a pen like a lady. Don’t know what you were thinking of, Caroline! I brought up my daughter to know all the arts a lady should, the proper things—embroidery, painting, singing and playing the pianoforte pleasingly—the sort of occupations proper for a lady. None of this meddling in other people’s affairs, politics and such. Never heard such nonsense! That’s men’s business, and not good for the health or the welfare of women. I’ve told you that before, Caroline.