Paragon Walk - Anne Perry [69]
“Evil!” Her face closed, and her eyes were hard and dark. “There is a dreadful wickedness in Paragon Walk. Go away from it, while you can.”
He could not think of anything else to do. He was still searching for something more to say when the maid came in with the tray of tea.
Phoebe disregarded it.
“I can’t leave, ma’am,” he answered. “I have to stay until I’ve found him. But I shall take care. Thank you for your concern. Good afternoon.”
She did not reply, but stood staring at the tray.
Poor woman, he thought outside in the heat. The whole incident, first her sister-in-law and now her brother-in-law, had been too much for her. She had become hysterical. And doubtless she got little sympathy from Afton. It was a pity she had no work to do and no children to absorb her mind and keep it from fancies. There were moments, surprizing and disorienting him, when he was as sorry for the rich as for any of the poor. Some of them were as pathetic, as imprisoned in the hierarchy—welded to their function, or lack of function, in it.
It was late in the afternoon when the Misses Horbury called on Emily; in fact, it was later than was at all suitable for visiting. Emily was more than a little irritated when the maid came to announce them. She even debated with herself whether to say she was unavailable, but since they were close neighbors, and she was obliged to meet with them regularly, it was better not to give offense, in spite of this extraordinary behavior.
They came in in a cloud of yellow, which was peculiarly unbecoming on both of them, although for entirely different reasons. On Miss Laetitia it was too sallow, giving her skin a jaundiced look; on Miss Lucinda it clashed with her sandy yellow hair, lending her the appearance of a rather fierce little bird far gone in the process of moulting. She trailed bright wisps behind her as she bounced into the room, her eyes fixed on Emily.
“Good afternoon, Emily, my dear.” She was unusually informal, in fact verging on the familiar.
“Good afternoon, Miss Horbury,” Emily said coolly. “What a pleasant surprise”—she emphasized the word “surprise”—“to see you.” She smiled distantly at Miss Laetitia, who was standing somewhat reluctantly a little further back.
Miss Lucinda sat down without being invited.
Emily was not going to offer them refreshment at this time in the afternoon. Had neither of them any sense of propriety?
“It doesn’t look as if the police are going to discover anything,” Miss Lucinda remarked, settling herself deeper the chair. “I don’t think they have any idea, myself.”
“They wouldn’t tell us if they had,” Miss Laetitia said to no one in particular. “Why should they?”
Emily sat down, resigned to being civil, at least for a while.
“I’ve no idea,” she said wearily.
Miss Lucinda leaned forward.
“I think there is something going on!”
“Do you?” Emily did not know whether to laugh or be cross.
“Yes, I do! And I mean to discover what it is! I have visited this Walk every Season since I was a girl!”
Emily did not know what answer was expected to this. “Indeed?” she said noncommittally.
“And what is more,” Miss Lucinda continued, “I think it is something perfectly scandalous, and it is our duty to put a stop to it!”
“Yes.” Emily was floundering now. “It would be.”
“I think it is something to do with that Frenchman,” Miss Lucinda said with conviction.
Miss Laetitia shook her head.
“Lady Tamworth says it is the Jew.”
Emily blinked. “What Jew?”
“Why, Mr. Isaacs, of course!” Miss Lucinda was losing patience. “But that is nonsense. Nobody would entertain him, except for business necessities. I think it has to do with those parties at Lord Dilbridge’s. I don’t know how poor Grace bears all of it.”
“All of what?” Emily asked. She was not sure whether there was anything remotely worth listening to in all this.
“All that goes on! Really, Emily, my dear, you must concern yourself with what occurs in your immediate neighborhood, you know. How else can we control it? It is up to us to see that standards are maintained!