Silence in Hanover Close - Anne Perry [47]
Sitting on committees of women was the last thing Emily had in mind. She was thinking of the sort of work Great-aunt Vespasia did—visiting workhouses and campaigning for better conditions and agitating for changes in the employment laws for children, trying to increase the number and scope of “ragged schools” for pauper children, perhaps even fighting for the political franchise for women. Now that she had the money, there might be quite a lot she could do, Emily decided. “You don’t look dressed for good works,” she said critically. “In fact, I’ve never seen you look so well.”
Caroline was startled. “There is no need to dress like a dowd or to look wretched in order to do good works, Emily. I know this has been tragic for you, but you must not allow yourself to become eccentric, my dear.”
Emily could feel her temper boil up inside her, mixed with frustration and despair. Imprisoning walls seemed to be closing in around her. It was as if someone were padlocking a gate and she could hear her mother’s calm, reasonable voice like the swish of closing curtains shutting out everything that was spontaneous, bright, and exhilarating.
“Why not?” she demanded. “Why shouldn’t I become eccentric?”
“Don’t be foolish, Emily.” Caroline’s tone was still gentle, but overly patient, as if she were speaking to a sickly child who would not eat her rice pudding. “In due course you will want to marry again. You are far too young to remain a widow, and you are extremely eligible. If you behave circumspectly during the next two or three years you may quite easily marry at least as well as you did before and be most comfortable and happy. But this next short time is crucial. It could make or mar everything.”
Emily raised her eyebrows high. “You mean if I do something immodest or unseemly, no duke will have me, and if I am seen to be eccentric I may not even manage a baronet!”
“You are in a very trying mood this morning,” Caroline said, struggling to remain patient. “You know the rules of Society quite as well as I do. Really, Emily, you used to be the most sensible of the three of you, but you seem to be getting more like Charlotte every time I see you. Perhaps I should have counseled you against spending Christmas with her, but I thought it would be nice for Edward to have some other children to play with. And to be quite frank, I know Charlotte must have been grateful for all the financial assistance you were able to give her—discreetly.”
“Charlotte is perfectly happy!” Emily said far more waspishly than she had wished to. She was being unfair, and she knew it even as she was unable to prevent herself from going on. “And I enjoyed Christmas with her and Thomas— in fact, I loved it.”
Caroline’s face eased into a smile and she quickly put her hand over Emily’s. “I’m sure you did, my dear. Your affection for each other is one of the nicest things in my life.”
Emily felt a ridiculous prickle of tears and was furious with herself. She did not wish to distress her mother, and yet with the best will in the world Caroline was devising a future for her which so utterly misunderstood what she wanted, it was unbearable.
“Mama, I refuse to sit on parish committees, so on no account speak either to your vicar or mine; you will only embarrass yourself, because I shall not turn up. If I do any good work it will be something real, perhaps with Great-aunt Vespasia. But I won’t sit around pontificating on other people’s morals, handing out saving tracts and homemade broth from a great height!”
Caroline sighed, gritting her teeth. “Emily, at times you are most childish. You really cannot behave like Lady Cumming-Gould. She has quite a name in Society. People tolerate her because she is very old, and because they still retain