Half Moon Street - Anne Perry [79]
Before tea was sent for and he was made thoroughly welcome, the old lady considered excusing herself. A headache or any other such thing would have served. Certainly neither Samuel nor Caroline would have tried to persuade her to stay. They might be only too delighted were she to retreat. It would leave them unchaperoned, of course. But would they have the decency to care? She could not even rely on that. Family honor required she remain, and so did a certain sense of self-preservation. At least if she was present she might exercise some degree of control over events. Samuel would hardly speak about her if she was sitting right in front of him. Yes, painful as it was, it was definitely better to stay. She could not afford the luxury of running away.
After the usual exchange of pleasantries, Caroline asked Samuel about his early days in New York.
“I cannot imagine what it must have been like for you and your mother, completely alone in a city teeming with immigrants, many of them with nothing but hope,” she said earnestly.
“Hope, and a will to work,” he answered. “To work all day and as much of the night as one could stay awake. They spoke a hundred different languages . . .”
“Babel,” the old lady said distinctly.
“Absolutely,” he agreed with a smile towards her. Then he looked again at Caroline. “But it is amazing how much you can understand what people mean when you share the same emotions. We all feel hope and fear, hunger sometimes, exhilaration, the sense of being miles away from anything familiar—”
“I thought you were born there!” the old lady said.
“I was,” he agreed. “But for my mother it was a terrible wrench to leave all that she was used to and begin again, with nothing, and among strangers.”
Mariah could have kicked herself. How incredibly stupid of her? She had found a dangerous situation and turned it into a disaster. Ice gripped her stomach. She gulped as fear overcame her. Did her face show it? Did he know?
He looked as perfectly smug and bland as usual. She did not want to meet his eyes.
Caroline was talking. For once, the old lady was glad of it.
“I cannot say how much I admire her courage,” Caroline said warmly. “It is both frightening and uplifting at once to hear of such people. I admit it makes me feel as if I have done very little.”
Dear Caroline! How dare she be so perceptive? How dare she put so exquisitely into words the compassion between Alys and other women, Alys and Mariah herself.
The room seemed to blur around her. Her face was hot, her hands and stomach cold.
“Thank you,” Samuel said softly, his eyes on Caroline’s face. “I think she was marvelous. I always thought so . . . but then I loved her.” He blinked quickly. “But I’m sure much happened here that was
extraordinary and exciting too. I seem to have talked endlessly about myself.” He shook his head a little. “Please tell me something about England in all these years. I daresay your news of us was more than ours of you. We tend to be rather absorbed in our own affairs. I am American by birth . . . just . . . and by upbringing, but I’m English by heritage.” He leaned back in his chair and turned to face Mrs. Ellison. “What was it like here at the heart of things when I was growing up in New York, out on the edge of the world?”
He was waiting for her to answer. She must do so, take control of the conversation. Remember all the things that were going on outside in the city, in the country. Think of nothing in the house, nothing of history. That should be easy enough.
She told him all manner of things as the memories came to her. He listened with apparent interest.
“Actually, it was the year before the old king died and the new one was crowned,” she resumed with an effort. “And the Duke of Wellington resigned.”
“I didn’t know dukes could resign,” he said. “I thought it was for life.”
“Not as duke,” she said contemptuously. “As prime minister!”
Samuel colored. “Oh . . . yes, of course. Wasn’t he the general who fought at Waterloo?”
“Certainly he was,” she agreed. She made herself smile.