Rutland Place - Anne Perry [61]
“Lady Ashworth, may I present Monsieur Paul Alaric.” He turned to Alaric. “Lady Ashworth is Mrs. Ellison’s younger daughter.”
Alaric shot a glance at Charlotte, brilliant with inquiry; then in perfect soberness he took the hand Emily offered him.
“How charming to see you, Lady Ashworth. I hope you are well?”
“Quite well, thank you,” Emily replied coolly. “We called to express our sympathy to Mr. Spencer-Brown. Since we have done so, perhaps we should allow you to pay your visit uninhibited by the necessity of making courteous conversation with us.” She rose gracefully and gave him a smile that was barely more than good manners.
Charlotte rose also; she had been on the point of excusing them when the parlormaid had come to announce Alaric.
“Come, Mama,” she said briskly. “Perhaps we may call upon Mrs. Charrington? I did so like her.”
But Caroline remained seated. “Really, my dear.” She leaned back in her chair and smiled. “If we depart the moment Monsieur Alaric arrives, he will think us most uncivil. There is plenty of time yet for other calls.”
Emily caught Charlotte’s eye with a sudden appreciation of the perverseness that faced them. Then she turned back to her mother.
“I’m sure Monsieur Alaric will not think ill of us.” This time she flashed a charming smile at him. “It is sensibility for Mr. Spencer-Brown that makes us withdraw, and not a lack of wish for Monsieur Alaric’s company. We must think first of others, and not of ourselves. Is that not so, Charlotte?”
“Of course it is,” Charlotte agreed quickly. “I am sure that if I were feeling distressed there would be times when the company of my own sex would be especially valuable to me.” She also turned and smiled at Alaric, and was a little disconcerted to see his eyes, bright and faintly puzzled, regarding her so closely.
“I should be flattered beyond the point of vanity, ma’am, to believe any man would prefer my company to yours,” he said with a softness in his voice, although whether it was irony or merely humor she could not tell.
“Then perhaps a little of each?” Charlotte suggested with her eyebrows raised. “Even the sweetest things become boring after a while and one longs for a variety.”
“The sweetest things,” he murmured, and this time she knew unquestionably that he was laughing at her, although there was nothing to show it in his face and she believed it was lost upon everyone else in the room.
“Let alone those with considerable acid to them,” she said.
Alston had not followed the conversation, but his innate good manners overrode his confusion. There was an ease in convention, the comfort of knowing the rules.
“I cannot imagine wishing you to leave, any of you.” His gesture embraced them all. “Please do remain a little longer. You have been so kind.”
Caroline accepted immediately, and there was nothing Charlotte or Emily could do but reseat themselves and, with as much grace as they could muster, begin a new conversation.
Caroline made it easy for them; from being merely polite and silently sympathetic, suddenly she was glowing, her intensity reaching out until it could be felt throughout the room.
“We were just encouraging Mr. Spencer-Brown to take the best care of himself,” she said warmly, looking from Alston to Alaric. “It is so easy in one’s grief for someone one has loved to forget oneself. I am sure you will be able to help him more than we can.”
“That is why I called,” Alaric said. “Social gatherings are unacceptable, naturally, but to remain alone inside the house makes everything harder to bear.” He turned to Alston. “I thought in the next few days you might like to come for a carriage ride? It can be very pleasant if the weather is fine, and you would not be required to meet anyone.”
“Do you think I should?” Alston seemed uncertain.
“Why not? Everyone must bear grief in his own manner, and those who wish you well will not grudge you whatever ease you can find. Music pleases me, and contemplating the great works of art, whose beauty