have never played at anyone’s soirée!”
“No, I think I should be very nervous,” Eloise said. “Although it would be an honor to be asked. But I rather think I should be irritated if everyone talked so much that no one else could listen.” She spoke with some feeling. “Music should be respected, not treated like street sounds, or wallpaper, no more than a sort of background. Then one becomes bored with it, without ever having appreciated its beauty.”
Amaryllis laughed, a high, pretty sound that irked Charlotte unreasonably—perhaps because she would have liked to have such a laugh, and knew she did not.
“How philosophical you are!” Amaryllis said brightly. “I warn you, my dear, if you start saying things like that at a soirée, you will become most unpopular. People will not know what to make of you!”
Charlotte gave her mother a sharp nudge on the ankle, and as Caroline bent to touch the place, thinking something had fallen on her, Charlotte pretended to assume she was preparing to leave.
“May I help you, Mama?” she offered, then rose and gave Caroline her arm.
Caroline glanced at her. “I am not yet in need of assistance, Charlotte,” she said crisply. But although the idea of sitting down again, out of contrariness, lingered quite clearly in her eyes, after a moment she excused herself politely, and a few minutes later they were both outside in the street again.
“I dislike Mrs. Denbigh,” Charlotte said with feeling. “Very much!”
“That was obvious.” Caroline pulled her collar up. Then she smiled. “Actually, so do I. It is completely unfair, because I have no idea why, but I find her most irritating.”
“She has set her cap at Tormod Lagarde,” Charlotte remarked by way of partial explanation. “And she is being very bold about it.”
“Do you think so?”
“Of course she is! Don’t tell me you had not noticed!”
“Of course I have noticed!” Caroline shivered. “But I have seen a great many more women set their caps at men than you have, my dear, and I had not thought Amaryllis was particularly clumsy. In fact, I think she is really quite patient.”
“I still do not care for her!”
“That is because you like Eloise and you cannot think what will happen to her if Tormod marries, since Amaryllis obviously is not fond of her. Perhaps Eloise herself will marry, and that will solve the problem.”
“Then it would be a great deal cleverer of Amaryllis to find a suitable young man for Eloise than to sit there disparaging her, wouldn’t it! It should not be hard—she is perfectly charming. What is the matter, Mama? You keep hunching your shoulders as if you were in a draft, but it is quite sheltered here.”
“Is there anyone behind us?”
Charlotte turned. “No. Why? Were you expecting someone?”
“No! No—I—I just have the feeling that someone is watching us. For goodness’ sake, don’t stare like that, Charlotte. You will have people think we are watching them, trying to see in through their curtains!”
“What people?” Charlotte forced herself to smile in an effort to hide her anxiety for Caroline. “There isn’t anyone,” she said reasonably.
“Don’t be silly!” Caroline snapped. “There is always someone—a butler or a maid drawing curtains, or a footman at a door.”
“Then it is hardly anything to matter.” Charlotte dismissed it with words, but in her mind she did not find it so easy. The sensation of being watched—not casually observed by someone about another duty, but deliberately and systematically watched—was extremely unpleasant. Surely Caroline was imagining it? Why should anyone do such a thing? What possible reason would there be?
Caroline had quickened her pace, and now she did so again. They were walking so rapidly Charlotte’s skirts whipped round her ankles, and she was afraid that if she did not look where she was going she would trip over one of the paving stones and fall headlong.
Caroline whirled
“No, I think I should be very nervous,” Eloise said. “Although it would be an honor to be asked. But I rather think I should be irritated if everyone talked so much that no one else could listen.” She spoke with some feeling. “Music should be respected, not treated like street sounds, or wallpaper, no more than a sort of background. Then one becomes bored with it, without ever having appreciated its beauty.”
Amaryllis laughed, a high, pretty sound that irked Charlotte unreasonably—perhaps because she would have liked to have such a laugh, and knew she did not.
“How philosophical you are!” Amaryllis said brightly. “I warn you, my dear, if you start saying things like that at a soirée, you will become most unpopular. People will not know what to make of you!”
Charlotte gave her mother a sharp nudge on the ankle, and as Caroline bent to touch the place, thinking something had fallen on her, Charlotte pretended to assume she was preparing to leave.
“May I help you, Mama?” she offered, then rose and gave Caroline her arm.
Caroline glanced at her. “I am not yet in need of assistance, Charlotte,” she said crisply. But although the idea of sitting down again, out of contrariness, lingered quite clearly in her eyes, after a moment she excused herself politely, and a few minutes later they were both outside in the street again.
“I dislike Mrs. Denbigh,” Charlotte said with feeling. “Very much!”
“That was obvious.” Caroline pulled her collar up. Then she smiled. “Actually, so do I. It is completely unfair, because I have no idea why, but I find her most irritating.”
“She has set her cap at Tormod Lagarde,” Charlotte remarked by way of partial explanation. “And she is being very bold about it.”
“Do you think so?”
“Of course she is! Don’t tell me you had not noticed!”
“Of course I have noticed!” Caroline shivered. “But I have seen a great many more women set their caps at men than you have, my dear, and I had not thought Amaryllis was particularly clumsy. In fact, I think she is really quite patient.”
“I still do not care for her!”
“That is because you like Eloise and you cannot think what will happen to her if Tormod marries, since Amaryllis obviously is not fond of her. Perhaps Eloise herself will marry, and that will solve the problem.”
“Then it would be a great deal cleverer of Amaryllis to find a suitable young man for Eloise than to sit there disparaging her, wouldn’t it! It should not be hard—she is perfectly charming. What is the matter, Mama? You keep hunching your shoulders as if you were in a draft, but it is quite sheltered here.”
“Is there anyone behind us?”
Charlotte turned. “No. Why? Were you expecting someone?”
“No! No—I—I just have the feeling that someone is watching us. For goodness’ sake, don’t stare like that, Charlotte. You will have people think we are watching them, trying to see in through their curtains!”
“What people?” Charlotte forced herself to smile in an effort to hide her anxiety for Caroline. “There isn’t anyone,” she said reasonably.
“Don’t be silly!” Caroline snapped. “There is always someone—a butler or a maid drawing curtains, or a footman at a door.”
“Then it is hardly anything to matter.” Charlotte dismissed it with words, but in her mind she did not find it so easy. The sensation of being watched—not casually observed by someone about another duty, but deliberately and systematically watched—was extremely unpleasant. Surely Caroline was imagining it? Why should anyone do such a thing? What possible reason would there be?
Caroline had quickened her pace, and now she did so again. They were walking so rapidly Charlotte’s skirts whipped round her ankles, and she was afraid that if she did not look where she was going she would trip over one of the paving stones and fall headlong.
Caroline whirled
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