Farriers' Lane - Anne Perry [103]
But she did not refuse the offer of Caroline’s carriage to pick her up at home in Bloomsbury.
She left a note for Pitt on the kitchen table.
Dearest Thomas,
I have been invited to a soiree with a friend of Mama’s and I am going because I am a little anxious about her lately. She is becoming very fond of people I do not know at all, and this will give me an excellent opportunity to make their acquaintance rather better. I shall not be late, it is only an hour or two of music.
Your dinner is in the oven, mutton stew with potatoes and plenty of onion.
I love you,
Charlotte
She went first to Pimlico to collect Clio Farber. They arrived at Eaton Square, alighting in a swirl of nervous laughter, and climbed the wide steps up to a most imposing doorway flanked by liveried footmen who enquired for their names.
Clio took charge, informing them that she was a friend of the soloist who was to perform for their guests’ enjoyment, and was accompanied by her cousin. The footman hesitated for a moment, glanced across at his colleague, then inclined his head graciously and allowed them in.
The hallway was most impressive, flagged in black-and-white marble like a chessboard. There was a large statue of a youth after the Greek style in an alcove near the foot of the stairs, which swept up in an arc to the landing and the balustrade which bordered a gallery along half its length.
It was already filled with people all most elegantly dressed, the women in gowns glitteringly embroidered, lots of bare shoulders gleaming in the light from the chandeliers.
“You didn’t tell me it was going to be so formal,” Charlotte whispered to Clio. Already she was feeling not only like a provincial cousin but a very poor one, positively from the woods. She had thought Caroline’s gown quite becoming when she put it on at home, but now it was not only two seasons out of date, it seemed very unimaginative and pedestrian. The deep brandy shade was far too conservative. She must look fifty in it.
“To tell you the truth, I didn’t know it was going to be,” Clio whispered back. “Reggie said it was just a score or so of friends. They must have enlarged it since then. Still, that will make it easier to run into Kathleen without being so obvious. Come on. This is an adventure.”
Charlotte had rather more experience of adventures, and knew they could very easily become unpleasant if taken too casually. Nevertheless she followed Clio into the huge withdrawing room where sixty or so seats were arranged artistically in groups so people might hold intelligent and uplifting conversations with each other between the musical items.
For several minutes Charlotte and Clio moved around the edge of the throng of people, trying to appear as if they were looking for someone. Clio introduced Charlotte to her friend Reggie, who was standing gracefully in the region of the piano, ready to play when the signal should be given and the hostess introduced him.
They were conversing amiably and perhaps from nervousness. They told of one or two amusing recollections. Charlotte burst into laughter, and Clio put both her hands up to her face to stifle a giggle. Several people glanced at them with severe disapproval. One aristocratic young woman stared over her fan, flicking it noisily.
“Who are those persons?” she asked her neighbor in a penetrating voice. “I don’t believe I know the person in the pink gown. Do you?”
“Certainly not,” the neighbor replied with a sniff. “Whatever made you suppose I might know her? Really, Mildred. I don’t know anyone who dresses like that.”
“Oh, you mean the brown? Yes, extraordinary, isn’t it. I swear Jane Digby-Jones had something like that—two years ago.”
Charlotte was aching to retaliate. She looked at Clio and saw the tide of color up her cheeks.
“Who is the lady with the loud voice?” she asked, smiling at the pianist, her own voice carrying at least the