Callander Square - Anne Perry [52]
Georgiana looked at her narrowly.
”Who did you say you were?”
“Charlotte Ellison, Mrs. Duff. Lady Augusta wished me to bring you these. I believe they are said to be excellent for the house, a very delicate perfume,” she proffered them to the clawlike little hand, winking with jewels.
“Nonsense,” Georgiana put them to her nose. “They smell like dust. Still, it was civil of Augusta to send them; no doubt she thinks they will suit Laetitia, and I daresay she is right.”
Charlotte could not help glancing at the velvet and plush roses that decorated the couch, the cushions, and Georgiana herself.
Georgiana’s diamond-sharp little eyes caught her.
“Quite different,” she said simply. “I love beauty. I am very sensitive. I suffer, you know, and it helps to have flowers.”
“I’m sure it must,” Charlotte could think of nothing sensible to say to such a remark. She stood awkwardly in the center of the room, unsure whether to remain, or to excuse herself.
Georgiana was regarding her with curiosity.
“You don’t look like a maid. What did you say you were?”
“I am helping General Balantyne with his war memoirs.”
“Disgusting. What does a young woman like you want with war memoirs? Money, I suppose?”
“I find them very interesting,” Charlotte did not feel obliged to prevaricate or hide her feelings. “I think it becomes us all to know the history of our country, and the nature of the sacrifices that have been made.”
Georgiana’s eyes narrowed.
“What a quaint creature you are. Please either take your leave, or sit down. You are tall, and peering up at you makes my neck ache. I am very delicate.”
Charlotte was tempted to stay, but she was aware that the general would be waiting for her, and of her duty to him, both as a matter of honor and because she might lose her position and its opportunities if she were to stretch his patience too far.
“Thank you, Mrs. Duff,” she said demurely, “but I must return. It has been most pleasant to meet you.”
“Come again. You are quite entertaining,” Georgiana lay back, the better to survey her frankly. “I don’t know what the world’s coming to. Give Augusta my thanks. Don’t tell her I do not care for the flowers, or that they smell like unlived-in houses.”
“Of course not,” and Charlotte left her still gazing at the door.
Back in the library Balantyne was waiting for her.
“Georgiana hold you in conversation?” he said, looking at her with a smile, the first she could remember on his face. “Poor old creature. It can’t be easy living there with Laetitia. I sometimes think Helena’s leaving turned her mind a little.”
“Helena?” Charlotte could not place the name, although she thought Emily had mentioned it.
“Laetitia’s daughter,” Balantyne explained. “Wretched girl eloped with someone about two years ago. Never found out who. Poor Laetitia was quite deranged by it. Never mentioned Helena’s name since, pretends she had no children. Husband’s been dead for years and she had no one else, so Georgiana came to live with her.”
“How very sad.” Charlotte saw the waste and her imagination tried to visualize the loneliness, Helena’s love—or temptation—all the regret since. She wondered if the marriage was happy. “Has she never written to her mother since?”
“Not so far as I know. Of course Laetitia admired Ross as well, which made it all the harder.”
“Who is Ross?”
“Alan Ross. He was in love with Helena. We all thought it was only a matter of time before they married. Shows what nonsense we talk!” He sat down behind the desk again, and she found his eyes on her faintly disturbing. “He has never got over it,” he added.
She could think of no expression that was not unbearably trite.
“We so seldom really know what another person feels,” she said, picking up the papers again. “There are your uncle’s diaries. Do you wish me to number the pages that refer specifically to military matters?”
“What?”
She repeated her question, holding up the books for him to see.
“Oh yes, yes, please.