Rutland Place - Anne Perry [75]
Charlotte had forgotten the footman; indeed her mind had slipped back to the past and she had not even remembered that the carriage was not her own.
“Yes, yes, please do that. That would be excellent. I shall go upstairs and change, and you may bring my cup of tea there. Tell the footman I shall not be long.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Caroline was very somber when Charlotte was shown in. For the first time since Mina’s death, she was dressed in black and there was no lace at her throat.
“Thank you for coming so soon,” she said the moment the maid had closed the door. “Whatever is happening to Rutland Place? It is one unspeakable tragedy after another!” She seemed unable to sit down; she held her hands tightly together and stood in the middle of the floor. “Perhaps it is wicked of me to say so, but I feel as if in a way this is even worse than poor Mina! It is only what the servants say, and I should not listen to it, but it is the only way of hearing anything,” she excused herself quite honestly. “According to Maddock, poor Tormod is”—she took a breath—“completely crushed! His back and his legs are broken.”
“It’s not wicked, Mama.” Charlotte shook her head in a tiny gesture, putting out her arm to touch Caroline. “If you have any faith, death cannot be so terrible—only, on occasion, the manner of it. And surely it would have been better, if he is as dreadfully injured as they say, that he should have died quickly? If he cannot recover? And I would not trust to Maddock for that. I daresay he got it from the cook, and she from one of the maids, who will have had it from an errand boy, and so on. Do you intend to call, to express your sympathies?”
Caroline’s head came up quickly. “Oh yes, I feel that would only be civil. One would not stay, of course, but even if only to acknowledge that one is aware and to offer any help that may be possible. Poor Eloise! She will be quite shattered. They are very close. They have always been so fond of each other.”
Charlotte tried to imagine what it would be like to love someone so dearly and have to watch him day after day, mutilated beyond reparation, awake and sane, and be unable to help. But imagination stopped short of any sort of reality. She could remember Sarah’s death, of course, but that had been quick— violent and horrible, to be sure—but thank God, there had been no lingering, no stretching out of pain day after day.
“What can we possibly do?” she asked helplessly. “Just to call and say we are sorry seems so wretchedly trivial.”
“There isn’t anything else,” Caroline answered quietly. “Don’t try to think of everything today. Perhaps in the future there may be something—at least companionship.”
Charlotte received that in silence. The sunlight streaming across the carpet, picking out the garlands of flowers, seemed remote, more like a memory than anything present. The bowl of pink tulips on the table looked stiff, like an ornamental design, hieratic and foreign.
The maid opened the door. “Lady Ashworth, ma’am.” The maid bobbed a curtsy, and immediately behind her Emily came in, looking pale and less than her usually immaculate self.
“Mama, what a fearful thing! How ever did it happen?” She caught hold of Charlotte’s arm. “How did you hear? Thomas is not here, is he? I mean it’s nothing—”
“No, of course not!” Charlotte said quickly. “Mama sent the carriage for me.”
Caroline shook her head in confusion. “It was an accident. They were out driving. It was fine, and they had had a picnic somewhere and returned late, by a longer and more pleasant way. It’s all perfectly ridiculous!” For the first time there was anger in her voice as the futility of it struck her. “It need never have happened! A skittish horse, I suppose, or some wild animal cutting across a country road, frightening them. Or maybe it was an overhanging branch from some tree.”
“Well, that’s what one keeps woodsmen for!” Emily said in an explosion of impatience. “To see that there are no overhanging branches across carriageways.” Then equally quickly her anger vanished.