Silence in Hanover Close - Anne Perry [38]
After checking that no one was watching her, she took a quick glance to see the hallmark on the reverse of her silver spoon. Perhaps the salty soup was a mere mischance; even the best people could have an accident with a cook. Perhaps they even liked it like this.
She considered the women’s clothes again with an eye to cost as well as to the indications to character they might show. Presumably both Harriet and Aunt Adeline, as unmarried women, were dependent upon Garrard for their support. Adeline’s gown did not have the panache of high fashion, but then nothing she wore ever would; she was not that kind of person, and Charlotte guessed she never had been. Nonetheless, the dress was well cut and of excellent fabric. Much the same could be said of Harriet’s gown.
No, unless there was some hidden factor, some inheritance or the like, it did not seem as if money entered into the match.
“Don’t you, Miss Barnaby?”
She realized with a start that Felix Asherson was talking to her—but what on earth had he said?
“I find Mr. Wagner’s operas a little long-winded and I am tired some time before the end,” he repeated, looking at her with a slight smile. “I prefer something rather closer to life, don’t you? I don’t care for all this magic.”
“I’m not surprised,” Aunt Adeline put in suddenly, before Charlotte had time to find an answer. “There’s enough of it we can’t avoid as it is.”
Everyone stared at her, and Charlotte was totally confused. The remark seemed to make no sense.
“He said ‘magic,’ Aunt Addie,” Harriet said quietly. “Not ‘tragic’ ”
She did not seem in the least put out. “Oh, really? I don’t care for the magic element very much. Do you, Miss Barnaby?”
Charlotte swallowed. “I don’t think so, Miss Danver. I am not sure that I ever met with it.”
Jack coughed discreetly into his napkin, and Charlotte knew he was laughing.
Julian smiled and offered her more wine. A footman and two maids served the fish course.
“Unrequited love seems to be the theme of a great many operas and plays,” Charlotte said to break the silence. “In fact, it is almost a necessity.”
“I suppose it is something most of us can imagine, even if we have been fortunate enough not to feel it,” Julian answered.
“Do you think such tales are true to life?” Charlotte asked gently, watching his face for sympathy or contempt.
He gave her the courtesy of a thoughtful answer. “Not in detail. Drama has to be condensed, or as Felix says, it becomes too boring; our attention is short. But the emotions are real, at least for some of us—” Suddenly he stopped and looked down at the table, then quickly up again at her. In that moment she found herself liking him. He had said something he had not meant to, but she was certain his embarrassment was not for himself—there was no anger or resentment in it at all—but for someone else at the table.
“My dear Julian,” Garrard said irritably. “You are far too literal. I don’t suppose Miss Barnaby intended anything so grave.”
“No, of course not,” Julian agreed quickly. “I apologize.”
Charlotte was intensely aware that they were talking about something real and known to both of them. It had to be either Adeline or Harriet. Harriet was past the age when one might have expected a personable and well-bred woman of sound financial prospects to marry. Why had they not arranged a suitable match for her?
Charlotte smiled charmingly; her warmth was quite truly felt. “Indeed, I was only thinking, as you were, that too much magic or coincidence spoils one’s belief in the story, and therefore one’s emotional rapport with the characters. It was quite a trivial remark.” She plunged on. “Mrs. York has been kind enough to invite me to go and view the winter exhibition at the Royal Academy with her. Have any of you been yet?”
“I went,” Sonia Asherson said mildly. “But I can’t say that I recall anything in particular.”
“Any portraits?” Aunt Adeline inquired. “I love faces.”
“So do I,” Charlotte agreed. “As long as they are not idealized so that all the