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By Root 742 0

the usual trivial conversation that preceded dinner. Dinner itself was quite ordinary; the talk meandered from one unimportant topic to another. It was an uneven party in that there were four unmarried women present and only three unmarried men, one of them being Garrard Danver, who could have no possible romantic interest in his daughter or his sister, and presumably not in Veronica, who was shortly to become his daughter-in-law. Since he was twenty-five years Charlotte’s senior, she would have been most unlikely to have been paired with him in anyone’s mind, even supposing he had any desire to remarry. And of course Jack was assumed to be her first cousin and therefore unsuitable.

Nevertheless Loretta was a skilled hostess. Tonight she seemed to be using all her very considerable charm and poise to strike a perfect balance between dominating the company and making everyone else feel at their best. If she tried a little harder than usual, or if her hand gripped the stem of her wineglass so her knuckles were momentarily bloodless, perhaps it was her daughter-in-law who had given her very real cause for anxiety. She could not be blamed if she was nervous in case, even at this point, Veronica should show some trace of the hysteria, the willfulness, or the latent jealousy so ugly to any man, and which had come through her fragile exterior so very lately in the imagined privacy of her bedroom.

Since it was such a small company and the hour was a little later than usual for the end of dinner, Jack rather boldly suggested that they not separate but all retire to the withdrawing room together. He did not even glance at Charlotte: he was playing his part to perfection.

It was time Charlotte took her cue. Everyone was rising to leave, the table was littered with half empty dishes and crumpled napkins. The gas in the chandeliers was hissing gently and the flowers underneath them looked waxy white, artificial; they must have come from the conservatory.

Charlotte felt ridiculous now that the time had come. There had to be a better way. It would never work—they would see right through her, and there would be nothing for Jack to do except say she was mad. Nursing the sick aunt had turned her wits!

“Miss Barnaby, are you all right?” It was Julian Danver’s voice coming to her out of a mist.

“I—I beg your pardon?” she stammered.

“Elisabeth, are you ill?” Veronica came back to her, her face full of concern.

Charlotte wanted to laugh—she had created the desired effect without even trying. She heard her own voice answering automatically. “I do feel a little faint. If I might go upstairs for half an hour, I’m sure I shall recover. I just need to rest for a short while. It’s really nothing.”

“Are you sure? Shall I come with you?” Veronica offered.

“No, please—I should feel most guilty dragging you from your party. Perhaps your maid ...” Was she being too obvious? They were all staring at her—perhaps the whole charade was perfectly transparent. Did anybody really behave like this?

“Of course,” Veronica agreed and the words were such a relief Charlotte could feel the blood rush back into her face and she felt like laughing. They would put her down as a hysteric! For goodness sake, she must get out of the room and upstairs.

“I’ll call Amelia,” Veronica said quickly, going to the bell. “If you are quite sure?”

“Oh yes!” Charlotte said too loudly. “Quite!”

Five minutes later Charlotte was upstairs in Emily’s small, cold attic bedroom. She looked at Emily, and pulling a face, she slipped out of the gray and white dress. Emily presented her with the glowing dress of almost violent cerise.

“Oh Lord!” Charlotte closed her eyes.

“Come on,” Emily urged. “Get into it. You’ve already made up your mind; don’t waver now.”

Charlotte stepped into it and pulled it up. “Cerise must be a remarkable woman to look ravishing in this! Fasten me up. Come on, I’ve only ten minutes to get to the conservatory. Where’s the wig?”

Emily finished the fastening and passed her the black wig. It took them several minutes to get it right and to apply the rouge