Cardington Crescent - Anne Perry [50]
She looked next at Tassie, as unlike her father as it was possible to be. She was painfully slender where he was thick, broad-boned; vivid and alive where he was innately immovable, settled and sure.
Did he really want to marry Tassie to Jack Radley in order to purchase himself the ultimate respectability of a title through the Radley family connections, as Emily had said in her letters? Looking at him now it seemed eminently likely. Although again, it could be no more than the desire of any good father to see his daughter escape the prison of home, to find another man to provide her with an establishment of her own when he no longer could, and with the social status of wife, and that goal and haven of all women, a family.
Was it what Tassie wanted?
Charlotte cast her mind back to the time when she had been taken with other young women of her age to parties, balls, and soirées in desperate hope of catching the right husband. If one were well-born enough to “come out,” it was a disaster to finish the Season unbetrothed, the mark of social failure. No one married unless the arrangement were suitable, the proposed partner acceptable to one’s family. Very seldom did one know the person, except in the most perfunctory way; it was impossible to spend time alone together or to speak of anything but trivialities. And once a betrothal was announced it was rarely broken, and only with difficulty and subsequent speculation of scandal.
But perhaps anything was better than life in perpetual bondage, first to old Mrs. March and then to Eustace. He looked robust enough to live another thirty years.
The introductions had been effected and she had barely noticed. Now Eustace was chunnering on about his emotions, rocking slightly back and forth and holding his strong, square, and immaculately manicured hands together.
“We offer you our condolences, my dear Mrs. Pitt. It grieves me that there is nothing we can do to be of comfort to you.” He was making a statement of fact, distancing himself and his family from the affair. He did not mean to become any further involved, and he was making sure Charlotte understood.
But Charlotte was here to investigate and she had no compunction at all. She might feel profound pity, perhaps even for Eustace, before, all this was over; but she could not afford such tenderness now, when Emily was on the edge of such danger. They hanged women as easily as men for committing murder, and that thought drove all others from her mind.
She smiled sweetly up at Eustace. “I am sure you underestimate yourself, Mr. March. From Emily’s letters I believe you are a man of the greatest ability, who would rise to assume natural leadership in a crisis. Just the sort of man any woman would turn to when the situation overwhelms her.” She saw the blood rise in his face till he was scarlet to the eyes. She was describing him precisely as he wished to be seen—at any time but this! “And of course your loyalty to your family is beyond anyone to question,” she finished.
Eustace drew a shuddering breath, and let it out with a splutter.
Tassie stared aghast, not seeing the irony, and Sybilla sneezed repeatedly into a lace handkerchief.
“Good evening, Charlotte,” Aunt Vespasia said from the doorway, her eyes for an instant catching some of their old fire. “I had no idea Emily had written so well of Eustace. How charming.”
Some flicker of movement made Charlotte turn, and she caught a glimpse of black hatred on William’s face that was so swiftly removed she was half convinced it was a trick of the light, a reflection of the gas lamp in his eyes. Tassie moved a step closer to