Highgate Rise - Anne Perry [53]
“Josiah would have a censor to tell everyone what they may read and what they may not.” Shaw turned to Charlotte, his arms wide, his eyebrows raised. “No one would have had a new idea, or questioned an old one, since Noah landed on Ararat. There would be no inventors, no explorations of the mind, nothing to challenge or excite, nothing to stretch the boundaries of thought. No one would do anything that hadn’t been done before. There would certainly be no Empire.”
“Balderdash,” Charlotte said frankly, then blanched at her temerity. Aunt Vespasia might be able to get away with such candor, but she had neither the social status nor the beauty for it. But it was too late to withdraw it. “I mean, you will never stop people from having radical thoughts, or from speaking them—”
Shaw started to laugh. It was a rich, wonderful sound; even around all the black crepes and the somber faces, it was full of joy.
“How can I argue with you?” He controlled his mirth with difficulty. The room seemed alight with his presence. “You are the perfect argument for your case. Obviously not even Josiah’s presence in person can stop you from saying precisely what comes into your mind.”
“I apologize,” she said, uncertain whether to be offended, embarrassed, orto laugh with him. Grandmama was outraged, probably because Charlotte was the center of attention; Caroline was mortified; and Angeline, Celeste and Prudence were struck dumb. Josiah Hatch struggled between conflicting emotions so powerful he dared not put them into speech. “I was extremely discourteous,” she added. “Whatever my opinions, they were not asked for, and I should not have expressed them so forcefully.”
“You should not have expressed them at all,” Grandmama snapped, sitting bolt upright and glaring at her. “I always said your marriage would do you no good—and heaven knows you were wayward enough to begin with. Now you are a disaster. I should not have brought you.”
Charlotte would have liked to retort that she should not have come herself—but it was not the time, and perhaps there was no such time.
Shaw came to Charlotte’s rescue.
“I am delighted that you did, Mrs. Ellison. I am exceedingly tired of the polite but meaningless conversation of people who wish to express their sympathy but endlessly repeat each other simply because there is nothing anyone can say that is deep enough.” His face lightened. “Words do not encompass it, nor do they bridge the gap between those who grieve and those who do not. It is a relief to talk of something else.”
Suddenly the memory of Somerset Carlisle and the sorrow in his face was as clear in Charlotte’s mind as if he had been here in the room with them.
“May I speak privately with you, Dr. Shaw?”
“Really!” Prudence murmured in amazement.
“Well …” Angeline fluttered her hands as if to brush something away.
“Charlotte,” Caroline said warningly.
The same smile touched Shaw’s mouth with amusement.
“Certainly. We shall repair to the library.” He glanced at Celeste. “And leave the door open,” he added deliberately, and watched her scowl with irritation. A protest rose to her lips, and she abandoned it; the explanation of what she had not thought, or implied, was worse than its absence. She shot him a look of intense annoyance.
He held the door open for Charlotte and then as she swept out, chin high, he followed her and strode ahead. Since she had no idea where she was going, he led the way to the library, which turned out to be as impressive and pompous as the hall, with cases and cases of leather-bound books in brown and burgundy and dark green, all lettered with gold. Pious scripts were framed in mahogany