knots of anger
protruding from her scrawny neck. Anger had been his first impulse, too. Now he
merely felt sorry for Cecily. How cruel of his brother to have made no secret
of his enduring love for Venetia, while happy to take Cecily’s money. Hector
and Venetia should have married. They’d have made each other miserable very
quickly instead of drawing the rest of them into it … the survivors who had to
keep living with the memories.
“I have always admired your discretion, Cecily. It is the servants
who are not so reliable.” He seated himself on the window seat and beckoned to
his ugly, red-faced, trembling sister-in-law who was not a bad woman by nature,
but who had never got over being so ill-used. He sympathised. It was hard to
live with the betrayal of the only person one has ever loved. How much worse,
though, to be a woman, seeing oneself age with little, if any, prospect of love
on the horizon to ameliorate the damage of the past.
She sat, and he took Cecily’s clasped hands between his. “I have
long suspected that Caro has been aware of the whispers.”
Cecily jerked her head up. “You must refute them. Deny everything!”
With a sigh, Roland dropped her hands, and rose. Changing the
subject, he said, “You will, of course, launch Caro next season. I trust it’s
not an imposition for I realize I am sometimes guilty of taking your good
offices for granted. Perhaps you might enjoy a little enforced gaiety.” He
managed a smile.
Cecily was in no mood to respond with similar good humour. “I
consider it a duty I am happy to discharge, Roland,” she said through pursed
lips. “Hardly a pleasure! Ugly old women like me are fools if they deck
themselves out in frills and furbelows to seek out pleasure.”
“Good,” said Roland, ignoring her last remark. “In the meantime I
thought a little practice in advance of Caro’s come-out would be in order. I
plan to hold a small ball at Larchfield for Caro’s seventeenth birthday next
month. Just twenty or so people from the neighbourhood. Caro will, of course,
hate the idea but I think Miss Morecroft might be just the person to bring her
round.”
Seeing her stiffen, he tried a final approach. “Come now, Cecily,”
he cajoled. “With your deft touches and skill at organization the evening is
sure to be a success.”
* * *
“It’ll be a disaster!” wailed Caro, twisting her handkerchief around
her fingers and looking at Sarah as if for corroboration.
Unmoved, Sarah bent over Harriet’s shoulder to correct her French
translation. Caro, opposite her, gripped the back of Augusta’s chair as she
fixed Sarah with a tragic look.
“The evening will be a disaster, or you will be?” Sarah enquired,
gently, not looking up.
With a huff Caro began pacing around the table. “Both,” she said,
finally. “I will be a disaster and so bring great shame and embarrassment to
Papa.”
“Oh, so you do recognize the correlation,” said Sarah, as if
discussing a lesson in logic. “I’m glad, Caro. It’s time you learned that how
you deport yourself reflects upon those who reared you. If you behave
charmingly your father’s guests will go home saying, ‘How fortunate Mr
Hawthorne is to have a daughter with such pleasing manners. What a credit she
is to him’.”
Caro was not such a fool she could not recognize the sarcasm in her
governess’s tone. But when Sarah looked up she was taken aback by the anger in
the young girl’s eyes.
“You understand nothing!” Caro hissed. She thrust herself across the
table to glare at her governess. Harriet and Augusta looked up in alarm. “No,
nothing!”
Sarah eyed her with concern. “Calm yourself, Caro,” she soothed. She
did not fancy another hysterical outburst with consequences worse than last
time.
“Do you think I’m insensible to every nuance of my voice?” demanded
Caro. “Or that I am not afraid every time I smile that I might be creating the
wrong impression? If I smile ‘charmingly’ as
protruding from her scrawny neck. Anger had been his first impulse, too. Now he
merely felt sorry for Cecily. How cruel of his brother to have made no secret
of his enduring love for Venetia, while happy to take Cecily’s money. Hector
and Venetia should have married. They’d have made each other miserable very
quickly instead of drawing the rest of them into it … the survivors who had to
keep living with the memories.
“I have always admired your discretion, Cecily. It is the servants
who are not so reliable.” He seated himself on the window seat and beckoned to
his ugly, red-faced, trembling sister-in-law who was not a bad woman by nature,
but who had never got over being so ill-used. He sympathised. It was hard to
live with the betrayal of the only person one has ever loved. How much worse,
though, to be a woman, seeing oneself age with little, if any, prospect of love
on the horizon to ameliorate the damage of the past.
She sat, and he took Cecily’s clasped hands between his. “I have
long suspected that Caro has been aware of the whispers.”
Cecily jerked her head up. “You must refute them. Deny everything!”
With a sigh, Roland dropped her hands, and rose. Changing the
subject, he said, “You will, of course, launch Caro next season. I trust it’s
not an imposition for I realize I am sometimes guilty of taking your good
offices for granted. Perhaps you might enjoy a little enforced gaiety.” He
managed a smile.
Cecily was in no mood to respond with similar good humour. “I
consider it a duty I am happy to discharge, Roland,” she said through pursed
lips. “Hardly a pleasure! Ugly old women like me are fools if they deck
themselves out in frills and furbelows to seek out pleasure.”
“Good,” said Roland, ignoring her last remark. “In the meantime I
thought a little practice in advance of Caro’s come-out would be in order. I
plan to hold a small ball at Larchfield for Caro’s seventeenth birthday next
month. Just twenty or so people from the neighbourhood. Caro will, of course,
hate the idea but I think Miss Morecroft might be just the person to bring her
round.”
Seeing her stiffen, he tried a final approach. “Come now, Cecily,”
he cajoled. “With your deft touches and skill at organization the evening is
sure to be a success.”
* * *
“It’ll be a disaster!” wailed Caro, twisting her handkerchief around
her fingers and looking at Sarah as if for corroboration.
Unmoved, Sarah bent over Harriet’s shoulder to correct her French
translation. Caro, opposite her, gripped the back of Augusta’s chair as she
fixed Sarah with a tragic look.
“The evening will be a disaster, or you will be?” Sarah enquired,
gently, not looking up.
With a huff Caro began pacing around the table. “Both,” she said,
finally. “I will be a disaster and so bring great shame and embarrassment to
Papa.”
“Oh, so you do recognize the correlation,” said Sarah, as if
discussing a lesson in logic. “I’m glad, Caro. It’s time you learned that how
you deport yourself reflects upon those who reared you. If you behave
charmingly your father’s guests will go home saying, ‘How fortunate Mr
Hawthorne is to have a daughter with such pleasing manners. What a credit she
is to him’.”
Caro was not such a fool she could not recognize the sarcasm in her
governess’s tone. But when Sarah looked up she was taken aback by the anger in
the young girl’s eyes.
“You understand nothing!” Caro hissed. She thrust herself across the
table to glare at her governess. Harriet and Augusta looked up in alarm. “No,
nothing!”
Sarah eyed her with concern. “Calm yourself, Caro,” she soothed. She
did not fancy another hysterical outburst with consequences worse than last
time.
“Do you think I’m insensible to every nuance of my voice?” demanded
Caro. “Or that I am not afraid every time I smile that I might be creating the
wrong impression? If I smile ‘charmingly’ as
Similar Books
