The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [80]
It was not the maid who returned, but Mina herself, still dressed in what appeared to be the same black gown with its very high neck and lace-pointed cuffs. She was as tall as Charlotte but much slenderer, almost waiflike with her fair skin and impossibly fragile neck. She looked tired, bruised around the eyes, as if in the privacy of her own room she had wept herself to exhaustion, but her face was full of pleasure at the sight of Charlotte.
“How nice of you to call,” she said immediately. “You have no idea how lonely it is sitting here day after day, no one coming except to pay respects, and it isn’t seemly for me to go out anywhere.” She smiled briefly, half embarrassment, half shame, seeking Charlotte’s understanding. “Perhaps I shouldn’t even think like that, let alone say it, but grief is not helped by being by oneself in a darkened house.”
“I’m sure it isn’t,” Charlotte agreed with a wave of both sympathy and relief. “I wish society would allow people to cope with loss in whatever way is easiest for them, but I doubt it ever will.”
“Oh that would be a miracle,” Mina said hastily. “I wouldn’t look for anything so—so incredibly unlikely. But I’m delighted you have called. Please come into the withdrawing room.” She half turned, ready to lead the way. “The sun shines in there, and I refuse to lower the blinds—unless my mother-in-law should call. But that is not probable.”
“I should be happy to. It sounds a delightful room,” Charlotte accepted, following her across the hall and down a passageway. She noticed Mina walked very uprightly, almost as if she were too stiff to bend. “It is about just such a matter that I would appreciate your advice.”
“Indeed?” Mina indicated a chair as soon as they were in the room, which was indeed most attractive, and at the moment filled with afternoon sunlight. “Please tell me how I am to be of service to you. Would you care for tea while we are talking?”
“Oh that would be most welcome,” Charlotte agreed, both because she would very much like a drink after the omnibus ride and because it insured that she stay longer without having to seek an excuse.
Mina rang the bell with enthusiasm and ordered tea, sandwiches, pastries and cakes, then when the maid was gone, settled herself to give Charlotte her entire attention. She sat on the forward edge of the chair, hands folded in her lap, half concealed by the lace, but her face was full of interest.
Charlotte was acutely aware of the underlying tragedy in the house, the unnatural silence, the strain in Mina so close under the surface of her composure. However, she explained that she was moving house, and all the things that had yet to be done before that could be accomplished satisfactorily. “I simply cannot decide whether the room would be too cold if I had it papered in green,” she finished.
“What does your husband say?” Mina inquired.
“Oh nothing. I have not asked him,” Charlotte replied. “I don’t think he will have an opinion before it is done, only afterwards if it is not agreeable. Although I daresay he will not even know why he does not like it.”
Mina shrugged very slightly. “My husband had most definite opinions. I had to be careful if I chose to change anything.” A look of guilt filled her face, sudden and startlingly painful. “I am afraid my taste was sometimes vulgar.”
“Oh surely not?” Charlotte said quickly. “Perhaps he merely meant that his own taste was exceedingly traditional. Some men hate any change, no matter how much it is actually an improvement.”
“You are very kind, but I am sure I must have been in the wrong. I had the breakfast room repapered while he was at sea. I should not have done it without asking him. He was most vexed when he came home and saw it.”
“Was it very different?” Charlotte inquired, uncertain whether she should pursue a subject which seemed to cause such distress. To look back on a quarrel, perhaps unsolved, when the other person was no longer alive and so beyond reconciliation, must be one of the most terribly