Rutland Place - Anne Perry [90]
“No, of course I don’t.” Charlotte crawled out of bed. “Where should I wear a red dress to? I’ve got a wine-colored skirt and coat.”
“Well, put it on and have a cup of tea. Then we’ll go and call on Papa. I’ve arranged it. I know he is at home today, and Mama has a luncheon engagement with a friend of mine.”
“Did you arrange that as well?”
“Of course I did!” Emily spoke with deliberate patience, as if to a rather tiresome child. “We don’t want her coming home in the middle! Now hurry up and get ready!”
Edward was delighted to have the company of both his daughters and sat at the head of the luncheon table with a smile of complete contentment on his face.
“How very pleasant to see you, my dear,” he said to Charlotte. “I’m so glad Emily found you at home and able to come. It seems a long time since I saw you last.”
“You have not been home when we have called lately.” Charlotte took her cue without waiting for Emily.
“No, I suppose not,” Edward said without giving it thought.
“We have been quite frequently,” Emily said casually, taking a little roast chicken on her fork. “And then gone out visiting with Mama. Quite an agreeable way to spend one’s time, providing one is not required to do too much of it. It can become tedious—the conversations are so much the same.”
“I thought it was an occupation you enjoyed?” Edward looked mildly surprised. He had not considered the matter greatly, merely taken it for granted.
“Oh, we do.” Emily ate the chicken and then frowned at him. “But incessant female company has very limited pleasures, you know. I’m sure that if George did not offer me his companionship in the evening and take me to dinner elsewhere occasionally, I should find myself longing for the conversation of some other gentleman. A woman is not at her best unless there is a man she admires to observe her, you know?”
Edward smiled indulgently. He had always found Emily the easiest of his daughters, without being aware that it was largely because she was also the most skilled at judging his moods and masking her own feelings accordingly. Sarah had been too impatient and, being the eldest and the prettiest, a little selfish, and Charlotte was far too blunt and would talk about totally unsuitable things, which embarrassed him.
“George is a fortunate man, my dear,” he said, helping himself to more vegetables. “I hope he appreciates it.”
“I hope so too.” Emily’s face suddenly became serious. “It is one of the saddest things that can happen to a woman, Papa, for her husband to lose his regard for her, his desire for her company, his general observance of her well-being. You have no idea how many women I have seen begin to look elsewhere for admiration because their husbands have grown to ignore them.”
“To look elsewhere?” He was a little startled. “Really, Emily, I hope you do not mean what that sounds like? I would not care to think of you associating with such women. Others might think the same of you!”
“I should dislike that very much.” She was perfectly grave. “I have never given George the least cause for displeasure with my conduct, especially on that subject.” She opened her eyes very wide and blue. “And yet, on the other hand, I cannot find it in my heart entirely to blame a woman whose husband has begun to treat her with indifference, if some other man, with pleasant manners and agreeable nature, should find her attractive and tell her so—and she should, in her loneliness, be equally drawn to him—”
“Emily!” Now he was shocked. “Are you condoning adultery? Because that is unfortunately close to what it sounds like!”
“Oh, certainly not!” she said with feeling. “Such a thing will always be wrong. But there are some situations when I cannot find it in me to say that I do not understand.” She smiled at him. “Take Monsieur Alaric, the Frenchman, for instance. Such a handsome man, so beautifully mannered, and such an air about him. Do you not agree, Charlotte? I wondered once or twice if perhaps poor Mina was in love with him and not Tormod Lagarde