Pentecost Alley - Anne Perry [43]
Outside a cart rattled along the street and someone on the footpath was whistling as he walked. It was almost daylight. The scullery maid could be coming down the back stairs any minute.
“Thank you,” she said at last. “I’ll see you at breakfast. I’ll fetch the nightgown.”
Emily smiled her gratitude and determined to find a telephone the moment she could, and at least inform her ladies’ maid that she was perfectly well and spending the night with a friend. If Jack was home, that would serve for explanation to him as well. If he should rise in the morning and find her late for breakfast, he would understand.
Emily woke with a start. The sun was streaming through the open curtains into a room she had never seen before. It was all yellow florals with a little gray and blue. There was a maid pouring hot water into a large china bowl and fresh towels over the back of the chair.
“Mornin’, miss,” the girl said cheerfully. “Nice day again. Looks to be set for sunshine and warm. Miss Tallulah said as if you’d care to borrow one of her dresses for the time bein’, you’d be welcome. Seein’ as your gown’s a bit formal for breakfast.” She did not glance at Emily’s green dinner gown with its ivory and yellow roses spread over the chaise longue, its skirts fanned out, its deep-cut bodice and flimsy sleeves looking like wilted flowers in the sharp morning light. Nor was her expression anything but politely helpful. She was a very good maid indeed.
“Thank you,” Emily accepted. She would dislike intensely turning up at Augustus FitzJames’s breakfast table looking as if she had been up all night. And the cream muslin dress offered was certainly very attractive. It was a trifle young for her, but not unsophisticated with its swathed bodice and delicate embroidery.
She went downstairs with Tallulah, in order that her presence might be duly explained and she be properly introduced.
The dining room was large, formal and extremely attractive, but she had no time to do more than notice it momentarily. Her attention was taken entirely by the three people who sat around the table. At the head of it was Augustus FitzJames, his long, powerful face set in lines of severity as he studied the morning newspaper. He had it folded in front of him, but he did not look up when the two young women came in until he realized that there was someone present he had not expected.
“Good morning, Papa,” Tallulah said cheerfully. “May I present Mrs. Radley? I invited her to stay the night with us because the hour was late and her husband had been obliged to take their carriage on an urgent call of government business.” She lied quite adroitly, as if she had considered the matter beforehand.
Augustus regarded Emily with a slight frown, then as he connected the name with a member of Parliament, he inclined his head in acknowledgment.
“Good morning, Mrs. Radley. I’m delighted we were able to offer you hospitality. Please join us for breakfast.” He glanced at the woman at the foot of the table. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, her morning gown immaculate, but her face was creased with tiny lines of anxiety. “My wife,” he said expressionlessly.
“How do you do, Mrs. FitzJames,” Emily said with a smile. “Thank you for your kindness in allowing me to stay here.” It was a formality, something to say in the stiff silence. Aloysia had been totally unaware of her presence.
“You are most welcome,” Aloysia said hastily. “I hope you slept well?”
“Very, thank you.” Emily sat on the chair indicated for her, while the maid set an extra place for Tallulah.
“My son,” Augustus continued, gesturing with his rather bony hands to the young man who sat opposite Emily.
“How do you do, Mr. FitzJames,” she responded, looking at him with a far greater interest than she could ever have had, had Tallulah not confided in her his disastrous connection with the murder in Whitechapel. She tried to smile brightly, noncommittally, as if she knew nothing, but she could not help trying to read his face. He was handsome; he had a good nose, a wide mouth, and a broad, firm jaw. His hair was beautiful.