The Cater Street Hangman - Anne Perry [5]
At that moment Sarah came out of the sitting room into the hall, the light behind her creating a halo around her fair hair. She was a pretty woman, more like Grandmama than Caroline, with the same porcelain skin and neat mouth, the same soft chin.
“Hello, Sarah, my dear,” Edward gave her a little pat on the shoulder. “Waiting for Dominic?”
“I thought you might have been he,” Sarah answered, the faintest flicker of disappointment in her voice. “I hope he arrives before the storm. I thought I heard thunder a few minutes ago.”
She stood back and Edward went into the sitting room, crossing immediately to the fire and standing with his back to it, blocking most of its heat from everyone else. Emily was sitting at the piano, flipping pages of music over idly. He surveyed his daughters with satisfaction.
There was another low rumble of thunder and the door closed sharply. All of them turned to the sitting room door automatically. There was a shuffle outside, the sound of Maddock’s voice, and then Dominic came in.
Charlotte felt her throat tighten. Really, she ought to be over this by now; it was ridiculous! He was slim and strong, smiling a little, his dark eyes first on Edward, as manners and breeding required in the patriarchal house, and then on Sarah.
“Hope you had a pleasant day,” Edward said, still standing by the fire. “As well you made it home before the storm. I think it might become quite violent within a quarter of an hour or less. Always afraid the horses will take fright and cause an accident. Becket lost his leg that way, you know?”
The conversation washed over Charlotte’s head; it was the usual comfortable family exchange, more or less meaningless, one of the small rituals of the day that established a pattern of life. Would it always be like this? Endless days of needlework, painting, house chores and skills, teas, Papa and Dominic coming home? What did other people do? They married and raised children, ran houses. Of course the poor worked, and society went to parties, rode in the park or in coaches, and presumably had families as well?
She had never met anyone round whom she could imagine centering her life—anyone except Dominic. Perhaps she should copy Emily and cultivate a few more friends like Lucy Sandelson, or the Hayward sisters. They always seemed to be beginning or ending a romance. But they all seemed so incredibly silly! Poor Papa. It was hard for him to have had three daughters, and no son.
“ . . . could, couldn’t you, Charlotte?”
Dominic was looking at her, his eyebrows raised, amusement in his elegant face.
“Daydreaming,” Edward commented.
Dominic smiled broadly.
“You could take on old Mrs. Winchester at her own game, couldn’t you, Charlotte?” he repeated.
Charlotte had no idea what he was talking about. The loss must have been obvious.
“Be just as inquisitive as she is,” Dominic explained patiently. “Answer all her questions with another question. There must be something she would rather not discuss!”
Charlotte was honest, as she always was with him. Perhaps that was why he loved Sarah?
“You don’t know Mrs. Winchester,” she said straight away. “If she doesn’t want to discuss a subject she will simply ignore you. There is no reason in her mind why her reply should be related to your question. She will say whatever she is thinking of.”
“Which today was poor Susannah?”
“Not really, it was poor Mrs. Abernathy. Susannah was only a side adventure, leading up to how much good it would do poor Mrs. Abernathy to go to Yorkshire.”
“In April?” Dominic was incredulous. “The wretched woman would freeze, and be bored stiff.”
Edward’s face darkened. Unfortunately at that moment Caroline came in.
“Caroline,” he said stiffly. “Charlotte tells me you have been discussing Chloe Abernathy this afternoon. I thought I had made myself plain, but perhaps I did not, so I will do so now. The death of that