The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [43]
“You may not be anything without,” Thelonius warned. “That is not to advocate that you do, simply realism.” His eyes became suddenly very intent. “But I give you my word on this, if you do not, I will give you every assistance within my power, for whatever that is worth.”
“Thank you, sir. I accept.”
Emily clasped his arm and squeezed it tightly.
Vespasia moved a step closer to Thelonius, and there was a brilliance in her eyes which might have been pride, or possibly merely affection.
Charlotte turned to watch Nigel Uttley walk towards the tall elegant figure of Landon Hurlwood, who swung around and smiled as he recognized him, as if seeing an old friend. Uttley spoke, but of course she could not hear his words. Hurlwood smiled and nodded. They both greeted a passerby, then resumed their conversation. Uttley laughed, and Hurlwood put his hand on the other man’s shoulder.
Further private speech was prevented by Lord Winthrop requesting silence and then giving a brief address of gratitude to those who had come to honor the memory of his son, and praise of that most excellent man and an expression of the deep loss his passing was to his family, his friends, and indeed he was not unwilling to say, to the country.
There were murmurs of assent, nodded heads, and several distinct looks of embarrassment.
Charlotte looked, as discreetly as she was able to, at the widow, now unveiled and standing white-faced, chin high, next to her brother. Her features were calm, almost beautiful in their repose, and quite devoid of expression. Was she still numbed by shock or grief? Was she a passionless woman, not moved even by this appalling death so intimately close to her? Did she have the most superb, almost superhuman mastery of the outward show of her inner self? Or was it that there were other emotions conflicting within her and canceling each other, frightening her so she dared not show anything at all for fear it betrayed her?
The only flicker Charlotte could see that indicated she had even heard her father-in-law was a slow movement of her pale hand against her black skirt where she reached to clasp Bart Mitchell’s stronger, larger hand, and held it.
His face too was beyond Charlotte’s skill to read. His eyes were very blue and clear on Lord Winthrop’s, but there was no softness in them at all, and certainly nothing that could be taken for grief. His hand still held Mina’s.
Then another very different woman caught Charlotte’s eye; her smooth fair hair shone in the light and the expression on her handsome face was one of rapt attention. Lord Winthrop could not have desired a more admiring audience, or one who seemed more totally at one with him.
“Who is she?” Charlotte whispered to Emily.
“I’ve no idea,” Emily whispered back. “I saw her with the widow earlier on and they seemed very affectionate and definitely quite familiar. I suppose she is a family friend.”
“She doesn’t seem to share the widow’s emotions, or lack of them.”
“Maybe she was fonder of him than the widow,” Emily suggested. “Perhaps she is what you are looking for. Or at least what Thomas is looking for?”
“A mistress?”
“Ssh!” A thin woman in front of them turned around and glared.
Emily lifted one shoulder a little and stared back, eyebrows raised.
The woman snorted. “Some people have no idea how to behave!” she said loudly enough for Charlotte and Emily to hear.
“Ssh!” hissed a woman a little to the left of her.
“Well!” the thin woman gasped, filled with outrage.
Lord Winthrop finally wound to a close, and footmen began to pass among the guests again, carrying trays of glasses filled with Madeira wine, heavy and sweet. Others came with glasses of white wine for the ladies, or lemonade for those who preferred it.
Emily pulled a face and took white wine. Charlotte hesitated, then chose lemonade. This might call for a clear head. It was certainly not an occasion for enjoyment!
“I must meet the woman with the fair hair,” Charlotte said seriously. “How can we contrive it?”
“I can’t think of a decorous