Highgate Rise - Anne Perry [42]
“I do know, Grandmama,” Charlotte replied, determined to be agreeable. “I asked only to show you that I care.”
“Indeed,” the old woman grunted. “Well sit down and tell us something of interest. I am also bored. Although I have been bored ever since your grandfather died—and for some time before, come to that. It is the lot of women of good breeding to be bored. Your mother is bored also, although she has not learned to resign herself to it as I have. She has developed no skill at it. She does bad embroidery. I cannot see well enough to embroider anymore, but when I could, it was perfect.”
“You will have tea.” Caroline smiled across her mother-in-law’s head. These conversations had been part of her life for twenty years, and she accepted them with good grace. Actually, she was seldom bored; when the first grief of her widowhood had passed she had discovered new and most interesting pursuits. She had found herself free to read the newspapers for the first time in her life, any pages she wished. She had learned a little of politics and current affairs, social issues of debate, and she had joined societies which discussed all manner of things. She was finding time heavy this afternoon simply because she had decided to spend the time at home with the old lady, and they had until now received no callers.
“Please.” Charlotte accepted, seating herself in her favorite chair.
Caroline rang for the maid and ordered tea, sandwiches, cakes and fresh scones and jam, then settled to hear whatever news Charlotte might have, and to tell her of a philosophical group she had recently joined.
The tea came, was poured and passed, and the maid retired.
“You will have seen Emily, no doubt.” Grandmama made it a statement, and her face was screwed up with disapproval. “In my day widows did not marry again the moment their poor husbands were cold in the ground. Unseemly haste. Most unseemly. And it’s not even as if she were bettering herself. Stupid girl. That I could understand, at least. But Jack Radley! Who on earth are the Radleys? I ask you!”
Charlotte ignored the whole matter. She was confident Jack Radley would flatter the old lady and she would melt like butter on a hot crumpet. It was simply not worth trying to argue the point now. And of course whatever Emily had brought her from Europe she would criticize, but she would be pleased all the same, and show it off relentlessly.
As if aware of Charlotte’s well-controlled temper the old lady swiveled around and glared at her over the top of her eyeglasses.
“And what are you doing with yourself these days, miss? Still meddling in your husband’s affairs? If there is anything in the world that is totally and inexcusably vulgar, it is curiosity about other people’s domestic tragedies. I told you at the time no good would come of it.” Again she snorted spitefully and settled back a little in her seat. “Detective, indeed!”
“I am not involved in Thomas’s present case, Grandmama.” Charlotte took a fifth cucumber sandwich and ate it with relish. They really were delicious, thin as wafers, and sweet and crisp.
“Good,” the old woman said with satisfaction. “You eat too much. It is unladylike. You have lost all the refinement of manner you used to have. I blame you, Caroline! You should never have allowed this to happen. If she had been my daughter she would not have been permitted to marry beneath her!”
Caroline had long ago ceased to defend herself from such remarks, and she did not wish to quarrel, even though she was provoked. In fact it gave her a certain satisfaction to catch her mother-in-law’s beady eyes and smile sweetly back at her, and see the irritation in them.
“Unfortunately I had not your skill,” she said gently. “I managed very well with Emily—but Charlotte defeated me.”
The old lady was temporarily beaten. “Hah!” she said, at a loss for words.
Charlotte hid her smile, and took another sip of tea.
“Given up meddling, have you?” The old lady renewed the attack. “Emily will be disappointed!”
Charlotte sipped her tea again.
“All cutpurses and