concerns us all.”
Cordelia sat back a little, and was about to resume the conversation on some other topic when the butler came in, stopping discreetly just inside the door.
“Yes, Porteous?” Cordelia asked.
“Mr. and Mrs. Denoon are here, my lady. I have informed them that his lordship is out, and they asked if you wished to see them, or would prefer to leave it until another time.”
“Ask them to come in,” Cordelia replied. She turned to Vespasia. “Enid is my sister-in-law, as I am sure you remember, although, as I recall, you did not know her well.” She gave a tiny, stiff shrug. “I am not particularly desirous to face her. She is bound to be terribly distressed. She and Sheridan have always been close. It will be difficult. If you would prefer to excuse yourself I shall understand.” Her words made it perfectly acceptable for Vespasia to leave, but her expression left no doubt that she would find it easier were Vespasia to stay.
Morally speaking, Vespasia had no choice, nor did she have the opportunity to do more than accept before Porteous returned, followed by Enid Denoon and her husband. Vespasia had actually forgotten her, but seeing her again brought back what could have been friendship in other circumstances.
Enid was tall, like her brother, slender but with squarer shoulders and the upright carriage of a woman who still sat a horse superbly. Her figure had survived the years better than Cordelia’s. There was no thickening of her waist or heaviness in her hips. Her fair brown hair had lost much of its color, but her face was not greatly changed, her high cheekbones and well-defined nose had kept their lines, and her skin had a bloom many a younger woman might have envied.
Behind her Denoon was darker, heavier, his hair still thick and almost black. He was imposing rather than handsome. All Vespasia remembered of him was that she had not liked him, possibly because he had an odd mixture of high intelligence and an almost total incapacity for laughter. He did not see the joy of absurdity, which she adored. It was one of the sanities of life. Without it, the world of fashion, wealth, and political power would have been suffocating. She had been married irretrievably, with a certain degree of companionship, but without passion. To laugh was the only alternative to weeping. Denoon’s gravity had seemed then to be without delicacy or tenderness.
Enid was clearly surprised to see her, yet she did not look displeased. But then, she would be too carefully schooled in good manners to show it, even if she were.
“How do you do, Lady Vespasia,” Denoon responded to Cordelia’s introduction. “It is very good of you to take time to call in person on this sad occasion.” He was just short of expressing surprise.
“Like us, Lady Vespasia recognizes that we must lend all our support to action,” Cordelia intervened, looking at Denoon intently. She did not even glance at Enid.
Denoon’s eyes met Cordelia’s with a strange mixture of understanding and an emotion Vespasia could not read, but the power of it remained in her mind. Then he turned back. “How farsighted of you, Lady Vespasia,” he said quietly. “Indeed we are in times more dangerous than I believe most people are aware. The tide of chaos is rising, and yesterday marked a steep increase, to our tragic loss. I am so sorry.” This last remark was addressed again to Cordelia.
“King Canute was a wise man,” Enid said to no one in particular.
Cordelia blinked.
Vespasia looked at Enid in surprise, and saw her eyes far away, sad and angry.
Denoon swung around irritably and glared at his wife. “He was a fool!” he snapped. “Any man who imagines he could turn back the tide is an idiot! I spoke figuratively. We do not have to await the movement of the earth or the moon in order to alter social trends, or hold up our hands helplessly because things are happening that we do not like. We are masters of our own fate!” He looked
Cordelia sat back a little, and was about to resume the conversation on some other topic when the butler came in, stopping discreetly just inside the door.
“Yes, Porteous?” Cordelia asked.
“Mr. and Mrs. Denoon are here, my lady. I have informed them that his lordship is out, and they asked if you wished to see them, or would prefer to leave it until another time.”
“Ask them to come in,” Cordelia replied. She turned to Vespasia. “Enid is my sister-in-law, as I am sure you remember, although, as I recall, you did not know her well.” She gave a tiny, stiff shrug. “I am not particularly desirous to face her. She is bound to be terribly distressed. She and Sheridan have always been close. It will be difficult. If you would prefer to excuse yourself I shall understand.” Her words made it perfectly acceptable for Vespasia to leave, but her expression left no doubt that she would find it easier were Vespasia to stay.
Morally speaking, Vespasia had no choice, nor did she have the opportunity to do more than accept before Porteous returned, followed by Enid Denoon and her husband. Vespasia had actually forgotten her, but seeing her again brought back what could have been friendship in other circumstances.
Enid was tall, like her brother, slender but with squarer shoulders and the upright carriage of a woman who still sat a horse superbly. Her figure had survived the years better than Cordelia’s. There was no thickening of her waist or heaviness in her hips. Her fair brown hair had lost much of its color, but her face was not greatly changed, her high cheekbones and well-defined nose had kept their lines, and her skin had a bloom many a younger woman might have envied.
Behind her Denoon was darker, heavier, his hair still thick and almost black. He was imposing rather than handsome. All Vespasia remembered of him was that she had not liked him, possibly because he had an odd mixture of high intelligence and an almost total incapacity for laughter. He did not see the joy of absurdity, which she adored. It was one of the sanities of life. Without it, the world of fashion, wealth, and political power would have been suffocating. She had been married irretrievably, with a certain degree of companionship, but without passion. To laugh was the only alternative to weeping. Denoon’s gravity had seemed then to be without delicacy or tenderness.
Enid was clearly surprised to see her, yet she did not look displeased. But then, she would be too carefully schooled in good manners to show it, even if she were.
“How do you do, Lady Vespasia,” Denoon responded to Cordelia’s introduction. “It is very good of you to take time to call in person on this sad occasion.” He was just short of expressing surprise.
“Like us, Lady Vespasia recognizes that we must lend all our support to action,” Cordelia intervened, looking at Denoon intently. She did not even glance at Enid.
Denoon’s eyes met Cordelia’s with a strange mixture of understanding and an emotion Vespasia could not read, but the power of it remained in her mind. Then he turned back. “How farsighted of you, Lady Vespasia,” he said quietly. “Indeed we are in times more dangerous than I believe most people are aware. The tide of chaos is rising, and yesterday marked a steep increase, to our tragic loss. I am so sorry.” This last remark was addressed again to Cordelia.
“King Canute was a wise man,” Enid said to no one in particular.
Cordelia blinked.
Vespasia looked at Enid in surprise, and saw her eyes far away, sad and angry.
Denoon swung around irritably and glared at his wife. “He was a fool!” he snapped. “Any man who imagines he could turn back the tide is an idiot! I spoke figuratively. We do not have to await the movement of the earth or the moon in order to alter social trends, or hold up our hands helplessly because things are happening that we do not like. We are masters of our own fate!” He looked
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