The Heiresses (28 page)

Her heart pumping in a crazed fashion, Thalia didn’t care what James thought of her, or how mad she seemed. She simply wanted him out of this room, out of the town house. Forever. If she never saw another Haigh Parker in her entire life again, it would be too soon.

James fled without another word, his jaw set hard. As he retreated, leaving the morning room door open, Thalia leaned one hand against the back of an armchair and tried to compose herself. It was not easy, after having brought so many old memories to the surface—ones she was used to suppressing. This was happening far too frequently these days for her liking.

“Thalia!” Ro entered the room, carrying an agitated Haggis McTavish. “Clio just came to get me. I wasn’t sure if we should come in, or wait outside, but then James came rushing out … Are you all right?” She came over closer, in order to inspect her sister. “He didn’t hurt you in any way?” She set Haggis McTavish down on the floor.

Thalia found she couldn’t look at either Ro or Clio, who had now also entered the room, directly in the eye. She could still see the visions, the remembrances of what had happened, swirling in her mind. She willed them away and tried to concentrate on the present. “He and his wretched family can’t hurt me ever again,” she said, reassuring herself. “He’s gone. For good.”

“What do you mean?” Ro asked slowly.

“I mean I’ve been disowned,” Thalia replied as flippantly as she could. “Apparently the gates of Lintern Park are closed to me forever. Thank goodness.”

“Oh, Thalia!” Clio replied, taking a step forward. But Thalia raised one hand, halting her.

“Don’t start with your pity, Clio. You, of all people, have no idea. No idea at all. It is a blessing to have the gates of Lintern Park closed to me. Nothing less.”

“But your brother…,” Clio continued, sounding shocked.

“He is
not
my brother, Clio.” Thalia’s voice began to rise once more. “He was never my brother. You really have no idea, so not one more word. From either of you,” she added, as Ro began to open her mouth. “Now, Ro”—she turned fully toward her sister, her demeanor suggesting she had not a care in the world—“I quite fancy taking my mind off this evening with a book. Is your little friend gone from the library yet?”

Ro’s eyes slid to Clio’s before nodding silently.

“Oh, good. I wouldn’t want to disturb anything.” She bent down now to casually ruffle Haggis McTavish’s ears. “You know, I had a chance to observe him this evening. He’s awfully like ivy.” When she looked up again and saw Ro’s confused expression, Thalia continued. “I mean, it’s just that he’s so awfully good at climbing, isn’t he? Now, before I go to bed, don’t forget about tomorrow night. Dinner. Seven o’clock, 70 Eaton Square. It’s not far. And, for goodness’ sake, wear something suitable.”

*   *   *

The yodeling was audible halfway down the street from 70 Eaton Square. As Ro and Clio continued to walk toward their destination, the music became louder and they glanced at each other from time to time, never once doubting from where the noise was emanating. Ro had guessed the culprit from the very first note she had heard—Thalia.

The pair finally stopped outside the rich cream façade and dark iron railings of 70 Eaton Square itself, where the glossy black front door was wide open, as were all the windows on the ground floor. Music blared out from inside. The yodeling had now stopped and a man’s voice sang some nonsense about how he missed his “Swiss miss,” who apparently, also missed him.

After a moment or two, Ro turned to Clio. “Shall we?” She nodded toward the open front door.

“I suppose so,” Clio replied, with a slight shrug. “Though something tells me I should turn and run the other way.”

Ro started up the stairs first and hesitated at the front door itself, reaching over to ring the doorbell. As she had suspected, no one could hear them. After a minute or two, she tried again. Still nothing. “Oh, come on, then,” she said as she waved to Clio. “Let’s just go in. They’re obviously in the drawing room. And with the front door open, I don’t think they’re going to be big on formality.”

“You’re probably right.” Clio nodded in agreement.

Ro and Clio walked hesitantly into the marble entrance hall with its impressive Ionic columns, gilt picture frames, and hand-painted ceiling. “A little different from Hestia’s.” Ro raised her eyebrows at Clio, whose eyes were quite wide.

“It’s beautiful,” Clio whispered. “Look!” She pointed up to the entrance hall’s glittering chandelier, which was pretty, but Ro had to admit she hadn’t really noticed, having seen so many before.

This town house was far more what Ro was used to from visiting her school friends during the holidays. She had realized at once on entering the Belgrave Square town house just how unconventional Hestia was, with her new furnishings in the latest style and her lack of staff. Though, she had recently heard a rumor, which explained the situation with the lack of staff. Apparently Hestia used to have a lady’s maid, until that lady’s maid had happened upon a visitor in Hestia’s bedroom early one morning—a female visitor. When her lady’s maid hadn’t been able to keep the secret, Hestia had dismissed almost all the house’s staff. Ro hadn’t yet told Clio or Thalia what she had heard—Clio, because she knew how shocked she would be, and Thalia, because she wasn’t entirely sure what she would do with the information.

“Hello?” Ro called out, as she moved into view of the drawing room. Inside, the music was louder than ever. The heavy gilt furniture had been pushed aside and now jostled for position with Italian marble busts on their heavy plinths, and in the center of the room, several people danced.

Including Thalia. And Vincent.

“Vincent!” Ro was shocked. What was he doing here?

“Ah! There you are!” Thalia spotted the pair, grabbed at Vincent’s hand, and dragged him over. “I’ve been minding Vincent for you. Teaching him the Charleston, actually. He’s terrible.”

“I am,” Vincent said as he smiled at Ro.

Ro’s eyes moved from Vincent to Thalia and back again. What, exactly, was going on here? What was her sister up to? Knowing how angry she still was about the memorial portrait, which Ro had finally convinced her she honestly had not known anything about, she was on high alert all the same for her tricks. As the yodeling began in the background once more, Ro saw that her sister was, yet again, wearing another new outfit—this time a stunning layered dress of deep claret, which skimmed her body beautifully.

“Come and have a cocktail before dinner.” Thalia waved them inside the room. She was all innocence, which was what worried Ro the most. “I know I need at least one more before we sit down.”

*   *   *

Clio tried very hard not to squirm in her seat. There was something strange about this dinner. Something not quite right. She felt as if everyone was … looking at her. Studying her. As if she were some kind of oddity. But this was most likely because she felt ill at ease, not having dined in many grand houses before. The menu card, in particular, lying in front of her on the table and written in French, was a constant reminder of this. She could guess at only a few of the dishes. However, she was seated next to Edwin, which was nice, and he soon made her feel a little less jumpy, with his easy talk.

Ro was across the table within speaking distance, sitting next to Vincent, and with only twelve guests, Venetia and Thalia were not too far away, but far enough so that Clio felt a little more comfortable than if they had been close by, listening in on her every word.

By the time the soup arrived (cream of watercress, Clio suspected), she had managed to calm down a bit and was even starting to enjoy the evening a little. She and Edwin were not quarreling for once and Ro, who had obviously been startled by Vincent’s presence in the drawing room, now seemed to be enjoying his company.

The problems began with the next dishes to arrive—fresh oysters and bowls of mussels. When they appeared, Clio eyed them warily. She did not live in a county by the sea and her family had not been of the sort that could afford these sorts of foodstuffs, or dined with people who were able to. Also, there was the reminder of the one time she had overindulged on cockles as a seaside holiday treat and had paid for it—tossing and turning in her bed for half the night. Clio shuddered slightly, remembering the incident.

“Is there a problem?” Edwin leaned in slightly, noticing her discomfort, as the footman hovered behind them.

“I … once had a nasty altercation with some cockles,” Clio whispered.

“Ah,” Edwin said as he nodded. “I understand completely. Just last week I had a nasty altercation with one too many bottles of wine.”

Clio frowned at him. “I don’t think that’s entirely the same thing. And I was ten years of age, if I remember correctly.”

Edwin grinned. “I’m sure the results were quite similar.”

“Yes, most likely.” Clio smiled. “Anyway, even if I wanted to … I’m not sure how…”

“Never fear, I’ll show you.” Edwin saw what the other problem was immediately—the one Clio had not yet admitted to. She had no idea how to eat oysters or mussels in polite society.

“What’s the matter, Clio?” Thalia’s voice boomed.

“Nothing, nothing.” Edwin waved a hand. “A small disagreement a number of years back with another bivalve mollusk.”

Venetia snorted at this. “You must try them, Clio,” she said. “They’re absolutely divine. Edwin will be able to help you out if you’re not sure what to do…” She let the rest of her sentence trail off, but everyone at the table turned to look at Clio anyway, knowing full well where her pointed comment was headed.

Silently, the footman stepped forward and Clio selected several oysters for her plate. She found she could not even look at the mussels and had to wave them away with a whimper. Edwin, ever the gentleman, said nothing, but gave her a wink and made sure to eat the oyster first in clear view, so that she could copy him.

Several courses followed over, which Clio struggled. She had, of course, no idea how an artichoke was eaten, the leaves pulled off and then the meat stripped from each one by pulling through the teeth. She wasn’t sure if she should dip each leaf in the small bowl of butter sauce, or spoon a little onto her plate. No, as the evening progressed, she wasn’t sure of anything, except that she did not belong as the other people at the table belonged and that Edwin, sitting beside her, was now as sure of this as she was. She had never hidden the fact from him that their lives and families were exceedingly different, but this—surely this made it clear to him just how very different they were.

“No, thank you.” Clio shook her head at the suggestion of more wine. As it was, she had barely touched her glass all evening. Having seen, through some of her father’s parishioners, the effects drink wrought when abused, she had never taken more than one glass of wine until the night of Venetia’s knights and damsels party and had not enjoyed the experience of partaking in more. She doubted she would ever have more than one glass at a time ever again. Others at the table felt differently, it seemed—the room was filled with raucous laughter now that more than several glasses had been imbibed.

“Oh, really, Venetia,” Edwin called out, and Clio returned to the present to see another course had made its way to the table. This time, some sort of small game bird. “Cornish game hens! You know how I detest them.”

“Thalia thought Clio might like to try them.” Again, all eyes at the table swung to Clio.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” Clio replied evenly, though she longed to stand up, push back her chair, and walk out the front door.

Edwin turned to her. “Well, I wish I had the luck of never eating a Cornish game hen before. I’m sure they starve them on purpose—all bones and no meat. Quite the exercise in futility.”

“Now, now. Even a Cornish game hen’s mother loves it.” Clio rallied from her social embarrassment for a moment to tease him, eyeing the jaunty little legs sticking upward on Edwin’s plate and causing Edwin to roar with laughter.

“What was that, Edwin?” Venetia asked.

“I’m afraid I can’t possibly tell you.” Edwin set about carving up the bird on his plate. “I’m too busy concentrating on locating a mouthful of food before I starve to death.”

“Perhaps you could persuade Edwin to move to Kenya as well, Clio?” Thalia replied for her friend. “I’m sure it’s nothing but huge roasted giraffe’s legs and so on for dinner there.”

*   *   *

It was over the Cornish game hens that the conversation at the table intensified, as the wine continued to be poured. “What do you think of George’s occupation, Clio?” Thalia gestured toward the gentleman sitting on Clio’s other side. “He’s an atheist, you know! Clio’s father was a vicar,” Thalia informed the table.

“I didn’t realize being an atheist
was
an occupation.” Clio looked confused. “Rather, I thought it was something you simply believed.”

“Or don’t believe, as the case may be,” Edwin added, kindly drawing the attention of the entire table away from Clio and causing Venetia to choke on her wine.

It was then Clio realized the entire evening had been designed to make both her and Ro feel uncomfortable, but most especially her. Clio glanced across the table at Ro and found her sister was already looking at her, having realized the same thing. Probably, knowing Ro, sometime before Clio had. She guessed Ro would most likely weather the storm. However, not being used to defending her point of view in such circles, Clio was not sure she would be able to do the same.

The atheist’s behavior, however, was impeccable. Although slightly drunk, he was respectful enough to discuss with her the role her father had held within his parish and they spoke at length about how such a role could, perhaps, be fulfilled in other ways without involving religion. While she didn’t agree with his views, Clio found him rather interesting (obviously, Thalia and Venetia had not chosen wisely when they had gone atheist hunting on the streets of London). It was only when the topic of conversation moved to Vincent’s area of interest that the talk truly soured. Clio was glad of one thing only—she had had the foresight to ask Ro what it was that Vincent did some weeks ago. She had never heard of eugenics before, but as soon as Ro explained the concept, she had been shocked to her core.