The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [161]
Jack’s eyes opened wide.
“They have just been married,” Emily added.
Grandmama, halfway through a gulp of champagne, choked on it, blowing a mouthful over half the front of her dress. Her black eyes were furious, her face flushed with shock and outrage. However, it was impossible to be dignified while dribbling copiously. Emily reached for Jack’s pocket handkerchief and, mopping her up, only made it considerably worse. Grand-mama then took the only avenue of retreat open to her and sank in a faint to the floor, almost pulling Jack down with her.
Instantly she was the center of all attention. No one any longer looked at Joshua and Caroline, or even at Jack. People rushed from all surrounding groups.
“Oh dear! The poor lady,” one man said, aghast at the sight of Grandmama in a heap on the floor. “We must help her. Somebody! Salts!”
“Has she been taken ill?” someone else asked anxiously. “Should we send for a doctor?”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” Emily reassured her. “I’ll just burn a feather under her nose.” She looked for a footman to fetch such an article.
“Poor creature.” The woman looked at Grandmama’s recumbent form with pity. “To be taken ill in public, and so far from one’s own home.”
“She’s not ill,” Emily contradicted her.
“She’s drunk,” Charlotte added with sudden, quite inexcusable, malice. She was furious with the old woman’s utter selfishness in robbing Caroline of being the center of attention and happiness at this, of all moments. She glared down and saw the old lady click her teeth with rage, and felt acute satisfaction.
“Oh!” The other lady’s sympathy vanished and she moved a step or two away, revulsion altering her face entirely.
“You’d better carry her out,” Charlotte added to Jack. “One of the footmen will help you. Put her somewhere so she can recover, and then someone will take her home.”
“Not I,” Caroline said firmly. “Anyway, I’m not going home. This is my wedding night.”
“Of course not you,” Charlotte agreed immediately, then turned to Emily.
“Oh no!” Emily backed away, her face aghast.
The footman returned with a feather already smoldering, and offered it to Emily. She thanked him and took it with relish, holding it close under Grandmama’s nose. She breathed in, coughed violently, and remained stubbornly on the floor with eyes closed.
Jack and the footman bent to pick up the still-recumbent form of the old lady. It was extremely awkward. She was short and heavy, and a dead weight. It took all their strength to get her up, with her skirts in order, and begin to move her through the crowd towards the doorway. Even so, as she passed Charlotte, she managed to lash out with her foot and very nearly land a swift kick on Charlotte’s elbow.
“She won’t stay under the same roof with me when I come home,” Caroline said distinctly. “She has sworn never to abide with me if I disgrace myself and make myself a public laughingstock.” She looked at Emily. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I think it is you who is going to have to offer her a home. Charlotte has no room.”
“Even if I had,” Charlotte replied. “If she weren’t going to live with an actor, she certainly won’t live with a policeman. Thank God!”
“I can see that winning the election is a very double-edged victory,” Emily said gloomily. “I suppose Ashworth House is big enough to lose her—most of the time. Oh Mama! I wish you every happiness—but did you have to do this to me?”
Sammy Cates enjoyed getting up early. The first hours of the new day were clear and full of promise, and very often solitude as well. It was not that he disliked people, but he enjoyed his own company, and time to let his mind wander in any imagination or dream he fancied was the best entertainment he knew. Last night he had been to the music hall. It had been Marie Lloyd, outrageously dressed and singing marvelous songs. Even now he smiled at the memory of it.
He walked with a swing in his step along the quiet street where he lived in two rooms with his wife and children and