Charlotte watched idly, the gentleman shook his head disconsolately, perhaps believing himself to be mistaken. Heshrugged and allowed his wife to shepherd him towards Lily Richmond at the other end of the room.
The delighted Lily was not likely to give up her prize easily and Lady Granville left him in her clutches while, with young Oz in tow, she made her way to the small crowd clustered about the table. There, she fussed about giving the boy a taste of the wassail punch. Charlotte had just raised a glass to her own lips when she spotted the elder of Lily’s new friends take a sip of the brew and wrinkle her nose. She murmured something to her sister who laughed and took the glass from her. Charlotte overheard her say, ‘Well,
I
certainly have no objection to the taste of cinnamon, my dear Sibella; in fact I’ll drink a second glass with pleasure.’
Charlotte heard Lady Granville exclaim aloud, though what she said was indistinct as Dr Chant chose that moment to lean forward and speak to his wife as she sipped at her drink.
‘Pray take no more punch, Verena, it is very strong and cannot be considered a suitable drink for a lady in your position.’ He bit off his remark, as she laughed in response, and continued. ‘Besides, the carriage is outside now and waiting to take you and your sister back to Winchester. Pray do not delay, it will not do to keep the horses waiting in this inclement weather.’
‘In my position, dear husband?’ The young lady’s blue eyes snapped in what looked like malicious amusement. ‘As the wife of Prince Albert’s trusted confidant? Or….’ Yes, Charlotte thought, there was definitely malice there. ‘Perhaps you meant to say – in my delicate situation, did you, my dear husband?’ The glance she shot at him was arch and suggestive and her husband, about to turn on his heel, halted and stared at her, his face darkening.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow but young Mrs Chant only laughed carelessly and turned to her sister. The incident passed mercifully without the embarrassment of an altercation in public between husband and wife and probably no-one but Charlotte was aware of a momentary silence in the group of people in her immediate neighbourhood, as they looked at the young lady on hearing her husband’s admonition. Melicent Penbury held her glass of punch to her lips, while one or two other guests looked up before theyonce more tucked in to more of the sweetmeats displayed on silver shell dishes.
Lady Granville, who looked a trifle pale, had resumed her expression of glacial indifference, moved to her son’s side and Dr Chant, still poised to leave the group, stayed a moment longer, his eyes narrowed at his wife’s careless peal of laughter as she drained her glass.
As she watched from the outskirts of the group, Charlotte was teased by a sudden thought that failed however, to make itself clear. The elder sister, Miss Armstrong, wore a slightly troubled look, quickly replaced by a resigned smile, and the only person present who looked completely uninterested was the fair-haired boy, Oz Granville, who was surreptitiously nibbling at the candied fruits laid out temptingly before him. Oz, Charlotte surmised, was patently unaware that he was the object of scrutiny, not only of his parents, for he was accustomed to that circumstance, but that the fashionable doctor had glanced at him several times, with pursed lips. Not only that, but the two visiting ladies were both acutely aware of the boy, although they tried to disguise that interest.
Charlotte was surprised when Lady Granville accosted her with a complaint upon her lips.
‘Did you observe that, Mrs Richmond?’ Her lips formed a tight line and her eyebrows frowned over her dark and disapproving eyes, as she stared at young Mrs Chant who was now donning her warm cloak. ‘That young lady or perhaps the other – well, whichever one of them it was, I believe she snatched the glass I had thought to give my dear boy,
The delighted Lily was not likely to give up her prize easily and Lady Granville left him in her clutches while, with young Oz in tow, she made her way to the small crowd clustered about the table. There, she fussed about giving the boy a taste of the wassail punch. Charlotte had just raised a glass to her own lips when she spotted the elder of Lily’s new friends take a sip of the brew and wrinkle her nose. She murmured something to her sister who laughed and took the glass from her. Charlotte overheard her say, ‘Well,
I
certainly have no objection to the taste of cinnamon, my dear Sibella; in fact I’ll drink a second glass with pleasure.’
Charlotte heard Lady Granville exclaim aloud, though what she said was indistinct as Dr Chant chose that moment to lean forward and speak to his wife as she sipped at her drink.
‘Pray take no more punch, Verena, it is very strong and cannot be considered a suitable drink for a lady in your position.’ He bit off his remark, as she laughed in response, and continued. ‘Besides, the carriage is outside now and waiting to take you and your sister back to Winchester. Pray do not delay, it will not do to keep the horses waiting in this inclement weather.’
‘In my position, dear husband?’ The young lady’s blue eyes snapped in what looked like malicious amusement. ‘As the wife of Prince Albert’s trusted confidant? Or….’ Yes, Charlotte thought, there was definitely malice there. ‘Perhaps you meant to say – in my delicate situation, did you, my dear husband?’ The glance she shot at him was arch and suggestive and her husband, about to turn on his heel, halted and stared at her, his face darkening.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow but young Mrs Chant only laughed carelessly and turned to her sister. The incident passed mercifully without the embarrassment of an altercation in public between husband and wife and probably no-one but Charlotte was aware of a momentary silence in the group of people in her immediate neighbourhood, as they looked at the young lady on hearing her husband’s admonition. Melicent Penbury held her glass of punch to her lips, while one or two other guests looked up before theyonce more tucked in to more of the sweetmeats displayed on silver shell dishes.
Lady Granville, who looked a trifle pale, had resumed her expression of glacial indifference, moved to her son’s side and Dr Chant, still poised to leave the group, stayed a moment longer, his eyes narrowed at his wife’s careless peal of laughter as she drained her glass.
As she watched from the outskirts of the group, Charlotte was teased by a sudden thought that failed however, to make itself clear. The elder sister, Miss Armstrong, wore a slightly troubled look, quickly replaced by a resigned smile, and the only person present who looked completely uninterested was the fair-haired boy, Oz Granville, who was surreptitiously nibbling at the candied fruits laid out temptingly before him. Oz, Charlotte surmised, was patently unaware that he was the object of scrutiny, not only of his parents, for he was accustomed to that circumstance, but that the fashionable doctor had glanced at him several times, with pursed lips. Not only that, but the two visiting ladies were both acutely aware of the boy, although they tried to disguise that interest.
Charlotte was surprised when Lady Granville accosted her with a complaint upon her lips.
‘Did you observe that, Mrs Richmond?’ Her lips formed a tight line and her eyebrows frowned over her dark and disapproving eyes, as she stared at young Mrs Chant who was now donning her warm cloak. ‘That young lady or perhaps the other – well, whichever one of them it was, I believe she snatched the glass I had thought to give my dear boy,
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