The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [66]
“Yer right,” she said chokingly. “ ’E sounds real bad. Mebbe I should try a lighted street or summat. I don’t wanter run inter summat like ’im.”
“Yer won’t, you daft little piece. ’E likes women, not kids.” The woman laughed. “Anyway, I can see business coming. This one’s mine. Good luck, you poor little swine—you’ll need it.” And with a parting wave, she turned and sauntered towards the approaching shadows, swaying her hips as she went.
Gracie waited until she was indistinguishable in the darkness, then turned on her heels and ran.
5
EMILY WAS DRESSED magnificently, as befitted the occasion. Her gown was her favorite nile green, elegant as water in the sun, and stitched with silver beading and seed pearls. The waist was tiny and, she admitted, less than comfortable, the bodice crossed over at the front with the bosom low-cut. The bustle almost vanished completely, its fullness replaced by the new fullness at the top of the sleeve, decorated with feathers on the shoulder. The whole effect was quite breathtaking, and she was aware of it in the lingering looks of gentlemen and the sharp glances and fixed smiles of ladies, and then the immediate, muttered conversation.
The dinner had been lavish and served in the grandest manner. Now the guests were all sitting or standing around the reception rooms in small groups talking, laughing and passing on personal and political gossip, although of course the personal was probably the most political of all. The by-election was drawing near and emotions were running high.
Emily was standing, not because she wished to but because her stays, which had contrived her exquisite waist, were far too binding for her to sit down for long with any comfort at all. Dinner itself had been more than enough.
“How delightful to see you, my dear Mrs. Radley, and looking so very—well.” Lady Malmsbury smiled brightly and regarded Emily with no pleasure at all. Lady Malmsbury was in her mid-forties, dark, rather large, and an ardent supporter of the Tory party, and thus of Jack’s rival, Nigel Uttley. Her daughter Selina was of Emily’s generation, and they had been friends in the past.
“I am in excellent health, thank you,” Emily replied with an equally dazzling smile. “I hope I find you the same? You most certainly seem so.”
“Indeed I am,” Lady Malmsbury agreed, discreetly looking Emily up and down, and disliking what she saw. “And how is your dear Mama these days? I have not seen her for such a long time. Is she well? Of course widowhood is so hard on a woman, at whatever age it occurs.”
“She is very well, thank you,” Emily replied a trifle more guardedly. It was not a subject she wished to pursue.
“You know, I had the oddest experience the other evening,” Lady Malmsbury continued, moving a step closer so her skirts rustled against Emily’s. “I was leaving a recital, a most excellent violin recital. Are you fond of the violin?”
“Yes indeed,” Emily said hastily, wondering what Lady Malmsbury was about to say in such eager confidence. The gleam in her eyes boded no good.
“I too. And this was delightful. Such charm and grace. A most elegant instrument,” Lady Malmsbury continued, still smiling. “And as I was walking down the Strand for a breath of air before taking my carriage home, I saw a group of people leaving the Gaiety Theatre, and one of them reminded me so much of your Mama.” She opened her eyes a little wider. “In fact I would have sworn it were she, were it not for her dress and the company in which she was.” She looked at Emily directly.
Emily had no choice but pointedly to evade the subject, or else to ask the inevitable question.
“Indeed? How odd. A trick of the light, I suppose. Streetlights can give the strangest impressions sometimes.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said that streetlights can give the strangest impressions on occasions,” Emily repeated with