Silence in Hanover Close - Anne Perry [15]
“I see your manners have not changed,” she said a trifle tartly, but there was a flush of pleasure in her cheeks. She might protest, discard it as convention, but she liked it all the same. “Of course you know my daughter-in-law,” she said, indicating the younger woman with no more than a glance in her direction.
Jack bowed again, very slightly, but enough for grace.
“Of course. I was most grieved to hear of your loss, and I hope that the future will hold some happiness for you.”
“Thank you.” A tiny smile touched the corners of Veronica York’s lips. Watching closely, Charlotte could see there was an old understanding between them that had been picked up effortlessly. A thought of Emily flashed into her mind, and she pushed it aside. That was another problem, to be faced at another time.
Veronica was looking past Jack and assessing Charlotte, judging the cut of her gown, its newness, its cost, as was Loretta. Charlotte was satisfied that it communicated her new status precisely—it was the gown of a country woman somewhat retired from Society by duties of compassion, but of good family and more than adequate means.
“I do hope you will find London to your liking, Miss Barnaby,” Veronica said graciously. “There will be much to divert you, but of course you must take care, because there is also company you would not wish, and it is easy enough to find yourself in distasteful places if you are not wise in your choices.”
Charlotte seized the chance. She smiled shyly. “That is most kind of you, Mrs. York. I shall be sure to take your advice. A woman’s reputation can be so quickly ruined.”
“Quite,” Loretta agreed. “Pray do be seated, Miss Barnaby.”
Charlotte thanked her and sat carefully on a stiff-backed chair, arranging her skirt. For a moment she was reminded with unpleasant clarity of the time before her marriage when she had often been in situations something like this. She had been escorted by her mother to all the right functions, shown off to best advantage in the hope that some eligible man would be attracted and a suitable marriage arranged. Always she had ended by expressing too forceful an opinion upon something, or laughing inappropriately, or being altogether too willful and failing to charm—quite often on purpose. But then she had thought herself in love with her elder sister’s husband, and the idea of marrying anyone else had been unspeakable. How long ago, how girlish, that seemed now! Nevertheless she remembered the relentless good manners, the pursuit of fashion, and all directed towards finding a husband.
“Have you been in London before, Miss Barnaby?” the elder Mrs. York was inquiring, her cool gray eyes summing up Charlotte’s very handsome figure and noting the tiny needle holes where the bodice had been let out.
For once Charlotte did not mind. This was only a part she was playing. And she must remember to observe closely, so as to have something to report back to Emily.
“Oh yes, but not for some time, owing to my aunt’s illness. Happily she is quite recovered, and I am free to take up my own life again. But I do feel I have missed so much. I imagine a great deal has happened in Society since.”
“No doubt,” Mrs. York said with a tiny smile. “Although there is a certain sameness in events from year to year, and only the people’s names change.”
“Oh, I think the people are quite different also,” Veronica argued. “And certainly the theater is.”
Mrs. York shot her a glance that Charlotte noted with interest: critical, then instantly muted; there was no gentleness in it. “You know very little of the theater,” she pointed out. “You have scarcely been till this year.” She turned to Charlotte. “My daughter-in-law is a recent widow. Naturally she has remained in mourning until quite lately.”
Charlotte had already decided to pretend complete ignorance of the affair in Hanover Close and anything to do with it. She put on an instant expression of sympathy.
“I am so sorry. Please accept my deepest condolences.