Bluegate Fields - Anne Perry [89]
“Of course not.” Callantha gave the only possible answer. “I am delighted to make their acquaintance. How very thoughtful of Angelica. I hope her indisposition is nothing serious?”
“I should imagine not.” Aunt Vespasia waved it away with her hand, very delicately, as though it were something vaguely indecent to discuss. “One gets these little afflictions from time to time.”
Callantha understood immediately; it was something it would be kinder not to refer to again.
“Of course,” she agreed. They all knew the danger of her comparing notes with Angelica was now taken care of.
“What a delightful room.” Charlotte looked about her and was able to comment quite genuinely. “I do admire your choice. I feel comfortable immediately.”
“Oh, do you?” Callantha seemed quite surprised. “I am delighted you think so. Many people find it too bare. I imagine they expect rather more in the way of family portraits and such.”
Charlotte seized her chance; it might not come again so felicitously.
“I always think a few pictures of quality that really catch the essence of a person are of far more value than a great number that are merely likenesses,” she replied. “I cannot help observing the excellent portrait over the mantel. Is that your daughter? Great-Aunt Vespasia mentioned that you have a son and a daughter. She is quite charming, and she looks already as if she may grow to resemble you.”
Callantha smiled, glancing at the painting.
“Yes, indeed, that is Fanny. It was painted about a year ago, and she is quite unbecomingly proud of it. I must curb her. Vanity is not a quality one dare encourage. And to be frank, she is not in the least a beauty. Such charm as she has will lie within her personality.” She pulled a small face, a little rueful, perhaps echoing memories of her own youth.
“But that is far better!” Charlotte approved with conviction. “Beauty fades, and often disastrously quickly, whereas with a little attention, character can improve indefinitely! I am sure I should like Fanny very much.”
Emily gave her a sour look, and Charlotte knew she felt she was being too obvious. But then Callantha had no idea why they had called.
“You are very generous,” she murmured politely.
“Not at all,” Charlotte demurred. “I often think beauty is a very mixed blessing, especially in the young. It can lead to so many unfortunate associations. Too much praise, too much admiration, and I have seen even some of the nicest people led astray, because they were innocent, sheltered by a decent family, so did not realize the shallowness or the vice that can exist behind the mask of flattery.”
A shadow passed across Callantha’s face. Charlotte felt guilty for bringing up the subject so blatantly, but there was no time to waste in being subtle.
“Indeed,” she continued, “I have even seen instances in my acquaintance where unusual beauty has led a young person to acquire power over others, and then quite abuse it, to their own undoing in the end—and most unfortunately, to the misfortune of those involved with them as well.” She took a deep breath. “Whereas true charm of personality can do nothing but good. I think you are most fortunate.” She remembered that Jerome had tutored Fanny in Latin. “And of course intelligence is one of the greatest of gifts. Foolishness can sometimes be overcome if one is safeguarded from its effects by a loving and patient family. But how much more of the world’s joys are open to you if you have sensibility of your own, and how many pitfalls avoided.” Did she sound as priggish as she felt? But it was difficult to approach the subject, retain a modicum of good manners, and not sound hopelessly pompous at the same time.
“Oh, Fanny has plenty of intelligence,” Callantha said with a smile. “In fact, she is a better student than her brother, or either of—” She stopped.
“Yes?” Charlotte and Emily said, leaning forward in hopeful inquiry.
Callantha’s face paled. “I was going to say ‘either of her cousins,’ but her elder cousin died some weeks ago.”
“I’m so sorry.