Resurrection Row - Anne Perry [7]
Pitt found himself smiling, in spite of the rain down his neck and the wet trouser cuffs sticking to his ankles.
“I shall give Charlotte your message,” he said, bowing slightly. “She will be delighted that I have seen you, and you are well.”
“Indeed,” Vespasia snorted. “Tell her to come early, before two, then she won’t run into the social callers with nothing to do but outdress each other.” She put her lorgnette away and swept down the path, ignoring the skirts of her gown catching in the mud.
2
ON SUNDAY ALICIA Fitzroy-Hammond rose as usual, a little after nine, and ate a light breakfast of toast and apricot preserve. Verity had already eaten and was now writing letters in the morning room. The dowager Lady Fitzroy-Hammond, Augustus’s mother, would have her meal taken up to her as always. On some days she got up; far more often she did not. Then she lay in her bed with an embroidered Indian shawl around her shoulders and reread all her old letters, sixty-five years of them, going back to her nineteenth birthday, July 12, exactly five years after the battle of Waterloo. Her brother had been an ensign in Wellington’s army. Her second son had died in the Crimea. And there were old love letters from men long since gone.
Every so often she would send her maid, Nisbett, down to see what was going on in the house. She required a list of all callers, when they came and how long they stayed, if they left cards, and most particularly how they were dressed. Alicia had learned to live with that; the thing she still found intolerable was Nisbett’s constant inquiry into the running of the house, passing her finger over the surfaces to see if they were dusted every day, opening the linen cupboard when she thought no one was looking to count the sheets and tablecloths and see if all the corners were ironed and mended.
This Sunday was one of the old lady’s days to get up. She enjoyed going to church. She sat in the family pew and watched everyone arrive and depart. She pretended to be deaf, although actually her hearing was excellent. It suited her not to speak, except when she wanted something, and occasional failure to know what was said could be not inconvenient.
She was dressed in black also, and she leaned heavily on her stick. She came into the dining room and banged sharply on the floor to attract Alicia’s attention.
“Good morning, mama-in-law,” Alicia said with an effort. “I’m glad you are well enough to be up.”
The old lady walked towards the table, and the ever-present Nisbett pulled out her chair for her. She stared at the sideboard with displeasure.
“Is that all there is for breakfast?” she demanded.
“What would you like?” Alicia had been trained all her life to be polite.
“It’s too late now,” the old lady said stiffly. “I shall have to put up with what there is! Nisbett, fetch me some eggs and some of that ham and kidneys, and pass me the toast. I assume you are going to church this morning, Alicia?”
“Yes, Mama. Do you care to come?”
“I never shirk church, unless I am too ill to stand upon my feet.”
Alicia did not bother to comment. She had never known precisely what ailed the old lady, or if indeed there was anything at all. The doctor came to call regularly and told her she had a weak heart, for which he prescribed digitalis; but Alicia privately thought it was little more than old age and a desire to command both attention and obedience. Augustus had always catered to her, possibly out of lifelong habit and because he hated unpleasantness.
“I presume you are also coming?” the old lady asked with raised eyebrows, then put an enormous forkful