Silence in Hanover Close - Anne Perry [36]
The carriage door was open and the footman was waiting to hand her down. She stepped out, glad of his grip for a moment or two as the cold, acrid air hit her like wet muslin. Then she went quickly up the steps and into the wide, warm hallway.
There was no time to look at the furnishings or the pictures beside the flight of stairs that swept upwards to the landing. The butler took her coat and muff and a maid held open the door into the withdrawing room. Charlotte took Jack’s arm and tried to sweep in with confidence, holding her chin high, her silk skirt swishing—or to be accurate, Emily’s silk skirt.
Jack nudged her sharply and she realized she was overdoing it. She was supposed to be modest, and obliged for their help. She lowered her gaze with a sense of irritation. She was tired of being obliged.
They were the last to arrive, which was very suitable, since they were the only ones not known closely to the others already. The six people in the room turned to look at them with varying degrees of interest. The first to speak was a young woman in her late twenties with a most individual face which only just missed being pretty; her nose was tip-tilted too far from the classic, and there was a frankness in her dark eyes that seemed out of place in an unmarried woman. Her figure was not nearly rounded enough for fashion, but her dark hair was shining and thick enough to have pleased anyone. She came forward to greet Charlotte with a good-mannered smile.
“How do you do, Miss Barnaby. I am Harriet Danver. I am so pleased you were able to come. Are you finding London agreeable, apart from this wretched weather?”
“How do you do, Miss Danver,” Charlotte replied courteously. “Oh yes, thank you for asking. Even in this fog it is such a nice change from the country, and people are so kind.”
A tall, lean man with an aquiline, highly ascetic-looking face came forward from where he had been half sitting on the back of a huge armchair. Charlotte judged him to be in his mid-forties, until he passed directly under the chandelier and she saw that the graying at the temples touched the rest of his head as well; the lines on his face were finer and more numerous than the shadows had betrayed.
“I am Garrard Danver.” His voice had a fine timbre to it. “I am delighted to meet you, Miss Barnaby.” He did not take her hand but instead smiled at Jack, bidding him welcome also, and introduced them to the remaining people in the room. Of these the most interesting by far was Julian Danver; indeed he was the principle reason Charlotte had been so keen to come. He was about the same height as his father, with a more athletic build, but it was his face that held her attention. He must have gotten his features from his mother, because Charlotte could see no family resemblance to Garrard at all, whereas in Harriet it was quite recognizable, especially about the eyes. Julian was fair, his eyes were gray or blue—she could not tell in the light of the chandelier—and his hair was brown with a fair streak across the front. His features were strong, and there was intelligence and restraint in his bearing. She could well imagine that Veronica York found him most attractive.
The last member of the Danver family was Garrard’s maiden sister, Miss Adeline Danver. She was rakishly thin, her deep green dress failing to mask the sharp bones of her shoulders. Her features exaggerated the flaws in Harriet’s face—her chin was smaller, her nose more prominent—but she had the same dark eyes and fine head of hair, more faded but still thick.
“Aunt Adeline is hard of hearing,” Harriet whispered softly to Charlotte. “If she says something odd, please smile and disregard it. She frequently gets quite the wrong sense of what is said.”
“Of course,” Charlotte murmured politely.
The only other guests were Felix Asherson and his wife. A striking man with black hair and unexpectedly vivid gray eyes, he worked in the Foreign Office with Julian