sparkling. “And I had intended to. Good drama can be so uplifting, don’t you think? And a girl has to have something intelligent to discuss. Silliness is so unattractive, don’t you agree?”
“Oh most,” Charlotte said sincerely. “The prettiest face in the world can become tedious quite quickly if the owner has nothing of sense to say.”
“Quite,” the lady with the sapphires conceded hastily. “But this, I assure you, was beyond a decent person’s desire to discuss, and quite unthinkable for any young lady hoping to attract a respectable gentleman. If she discussed this it would appall any person of sensibility that she was even aware of such subjects.”
Another couple swept past, the girl laughing loudly.
Great-Aunt Vespasia joined the group with a gracious inclination of her head.
“So fashionable, Mrs. Harper,” the sapphire lady observed,watching the couple retreating, heads close together. “Don’t you agree, Lady Cumming-Gould?”
“Up to the minute,” Vespasia granted. “Lovely, until she opens her mouth.”
“Oh! Is she vulgar—or foolish? I had not heard.” There was implicit criticism in her tone.
“Neither, so far as I know,” Vespasia replied. “But she has a laugh like a frightened horse! One can hear it two streets away on a calm night.”
Someone giggled, and suppressed it hastily, unsure whether it was appropriate or not. There was a hesitant silence. Suddenly all the other sounds intruded, the slither of leather soles on the polished wooden floor, the rustle of taffeta, tulle and satin bustles and trains, the murmur of talk, the chink of glass and in the next room one of the violinists retuning his instrument.
“What is the title of the play?” Charlotte inquired innocently.
“Titus Andronicus
, but it was said to be Shakespeare,” the sapphire lady answered quickly. “So I went in the belief that it would be noble and uplifting.”
“Was not the language fine?” Charlotte asked.
“My dear Mrs. Pitt, I have no idea.” She bridled slightly. “But if it were, that is no excuse. Far too much is excused these days on a point of style, as if style mattered! We are losing all our values. There is scandal everywhere.” She sniffed. “I feel so sorry for the Princess of Wales, poor creature. She cannot help but have heard what people are saying.”
“I doubt it,” Vespasia said dryly. “She is as deaf as a post, poor thing—but it may save her the malicious whisperings that would otherwise be bound to wound.”
“Yes indeed,” said another woman, in pink, who nodded her head and set her tiara blazing in the light. “It is fearful what people will say. What with her husband keeping mistresses quite openly for all the world to see—Lillie Langtry—I ask you! The woman is nothing better than a—” She shrugged and refused to speak the word. “And her son a complete wastrel, of which she can hardly be unaware. Do you know I even heard that the Duke of Clarence was creepingout of the palace at night and visiting women of the streets. Can you believe it?”
“I heard it was one particular woman.” The sapphire lady raised her eyebrows very high and her face took on an expression of great knowledge. “And that the affaire was far beyond the mere satisfaction of one of the less forgivable appetites.” She lowered her voice confidentially. “Of course it is only speculation, but some say that it had to do with those fearful murders in Whitechapel last year. The Ripper, you know.” She avoided Vespasia’s eyes and her tone became critical.
“Of course I was always dubious about the value of a police force. My grandfather was irrevocably against it.” She shrugged. “He said they would be expensive, intrude into a man’s dignity and independence, interfere where they had no business, and do very little good. Which seems to be the case.” She looked from one to another of them. “If such a thing could go on in the heart of London and six months
“Oh most,” Charlotte said sincerely. “The prettiest face in the world can become tedious quite quickly if the owner has nothing of sense to say.”
“Quite,” the lady with the sapphires conceded hastily. “But this, I assure you, was beyond a decent person’s desire to discuss, and quite unthinkable for any young lady hoping to attract a respectable gentleman. If she discussed this it would appall any person of sensibility that she was even aware of such subjects.”
Another couple swept past, the girl laughing loudly.
Great-Aunt Vespasia joined the group with a gracious inclination of her head.
“So fashionable, Mrs. Harper,” the sapphire lady observed,watching the couple retreating, heads close together. “Don’t you agree, Lady Cumming-Gould?”
“Up to the minute,” Vespasia granted. “Lovely, until she opens her mouth.”
“Oh! Is she vulgar—or foolish? I had not heard.” There was implicit criticism in her tone.
“Neither, so far as I know,” Vespasia replied. “But she has a laugh like a frightened horse! One can hear it two streets away on a calm night.”
Someone giggled, and suppressed it hastily, unsure whether it was appropriate or not. There was a hesitant silence. Suddenly all the other sounds intruded, the slither of leather soles on the polished wooden floor, the rustle of taffeta, tulle and satin bustles and trains, the murmur of talk, the chink of glass and in the next room one of the violinists retuning his instrument.
“What is the title of the play?” Charlotte inquired innocently.
“Titus Andronicus
, but it was said to be Shakespeare,” the sapphire lady answered quickly. “So I went in the belief that it would be noble and uplifting.”
“Was not the language fine?” Charlotte asked.
“My dear Mrs. Pitt, I have no idea.” She bridled slightly. “But if it were, that is no excuse. Far too much is excused these days on a point of style, as if style mattered! We are losing all our values. There is scandal everywhere.” She sniffed. “I feel so sorry for the Princess of Wales, poor creature. She cannot help but have heard what people are saying.”
“I doubt it,” Vespasia said dryly. “She is as deaf as a post, poor thing—but it may save her the malicious whisperings that would otherwise be bound to wound.”
“Yes indeed,” said another woman, in pink, who nodded her head and set her tiara blazing in the light. “It is fearful what people will say. What with her husband keeping mistresses quite openly for all the world to see—Lillie Langtry—I ask you! The woman is nothing better than a—” She shrugged and refused to speak the word. “And her son a complete wastrel, of which she can hardly be unaware. Do you know I even heard that the Duke of Clarence was creepingout of the palace at night and visiting women of the streets. Can you believe it?”
“I heard it was one particular woman.” The sapphire lady raised her eyebrows very high and her face took on an expression of great knowledge. “And that the affaire was far beyond the mere satisfaction of one of the less forgivable appetites.” She lowered her voice confidentially. “Of course it is only speculation, but some say that it had to do with those fearful murders in Whitechapel last year. The Ripper, you know.” She avoided Vespasia’s eyes and her tone became critical.
“Of course I was always dubious about the value of a police force. My grandfather was irrevocably against it.” She shrugged. “He said they would be expensive, intrude into a man’s dignity and independence, interfere where they had no business, and do very little good. Which seems to be the case.” She looked from one to another of them. “If such a thing could go on in the heart of London and six months
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