London Calling (7 page)

“Happy?” Mrs. Careme gave a sudden laugh. “Do you think any woman would be happy with such a husband as that?”

There was an underlying harshness in Mrs. Careme’s beautifully modulated tones as she spoke, and as Susanna turned, she saw that Mrs. Careme, too, was staring fixedly at the couple across the way. She looked suddenly older, and her face, above a splendidly draped evening gown of emerald silk, was hard and set.

Susanna studied her face more closely.

“Have you met them before?”

Instantly, Mrs. Careme’s eyes fell, thick lashes veiling the slanted green eyes.

“No. I was speaking generally. Major Haliday is a very common type. So many men are, do you not agree?”

Mrs. Careme’s eyes came up, then, to meet Susanna’s in a long, guileless look that was studiously square and level.

Before Susanna could reply, the gong sounded.

Mrs. Careme’s eyebrows lifted. “Dinner time already. Shall we go in?”

She moved towards the door, and Susanna was left, still watching the Halidays. Helen Haliday was dressed in a flame-colored gown of watered silk, her lush dark hair swept back from her brow, and a turban of matching silk wound round her head. Her face was sullen and closed, and she stood consciously a little apart from her husband, eyes turned steadfastly away.

As Susanna watched, the Admiral came up and offered Mrs. Haliday his arm, and she, still without looking at her husband, took it, moving off in the direction of the dining room.

Brooke Haliday stood alone a moment, looking slightly foolish, and, at the same time, angry. His eyes, as he watched his wife move off, were hard, and Susanna saw his jaw tighten. Then his gaze lighted on Mrs. Careme, and his eyes kindled. He smiled a queer, almost triumphant smile.

“May I escort you in?” He offered her his arm.

Susanna had moved to take her own place in the procession, but still she saw the sudden flush of color under Mrs. Careme’s skin, then saw it ebb and fade just as abruptly, leaving it white as wax. When she replied, though, her voice was perfectly controlled and cool.

“Thank you. I should be delighted.” And, taking his arm, she swept forward through the open double doors.

The Admiral’s dining room was a lofty, handsome chamber, with paneled wood walls and heavily carved, high backed chairs. A vast canvas of a hunting scene, painted in oils, hung on one wall, while on the others were ranged a series of what Susanna took to be family portraits, men and women in the tri-cornered hats and long-waisted dresses of a generation past.

Mrs. Careme sailed to the hostess’s place at the foot of the table. Susanna noticed Miss Fanny, in grey with a white spinster’s cap, watching resentfully. She had wound a string of cheap onyx beads about her neck, and fingered them nervously, her long, bony fingers moving over and over, twining the chain this way and that.

As Mrs. Careme seated herself, Susanna saw the hand tighten and clench on the beads. Miss Fanny turned to her brother-in-law and said, in slightly too loud a voice, “Charles, I have been meaning to speak to you about the footman, Albert. He is really getting to be quite impossible. I caught him today without his jacket on, and he seemed not in the least ashamed of himself. Indeed, he was quite impertinent when I rebuked him.”

“Eh? Albert?” Admiral Tremain looked vague. “Always seemed all right to me. What do you say, Charlotte? The boy Albert’s all right, isn’t he?”

Mrs. Careme, with a little half-laugh, inclined her head, and the Admiral turned back to Miss Fanny with a benign smile. “There, you see, Fanny? Now, don’t you bother about the servants. No need for you to trouble yourself about such matters anymore.”

Miss Fanny’s thin lips compressed, but she didn’t reply, merely moving off to her own place at the table, fingers still moving compulsively over her beads.

Susanna found herself seated near the foot of the table, between Mrs. Careme, to her right, and Major Haliday on her left. The food was beautifully prepared, and throughout the first course of turtle soup, green goose, and veal ragout, Mrs. Careme kept up a steady stream of polite conversation, inquiring of Susanna whether this was her first visit to London, whether she had been to the theater, to the opera, to the fireworks demonstration at Vauxhall Gardens.

She spoke intelligently, and listened with surprisingly polite interest, but Susanna felt throughout that her thoughts were far away. She ate little of the food before her, and once, when the conversation lapsed, her eyes strayed beyond Susanna to Brooke Haliday.

The Major’s eyes were a trifle over-bright, his color flushed, but his voice was still perfectly clear and distinct.

”Yes, I can assure you, Lady Grey’s the horse for Newmarket. If you take my advice, you’ll put a goodly sum on her nose. I assure you, I intend to.”

He had spoken to the table at large, but only his wife responded. She had been watching him, face taut with disgust, and now she snapped out, “Oh yes? With whose money?”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, while the angry color rose under Major Haliday’s collar, and his eyes narrowed. It was Ruth who intervened to avert the crisis. Turning to Major Haliday with her most charming smile, she said, “Do, please, go on with what you were telling me about the Duke of Clarence’s stables. I was so interested in what you had to say about the manner of feeding.”

Major Haliday hesitated a moment, then relaxed. He poured himself another glass of wine, and began to talk, only a little defiantly.

Mrs. Careme, after a brief pause, turned back to Susanna. “And you say you have not been to the theater, Miss Ward? Then you and your aunt must come with us on Tuesday. Admiral Tremain intends to take us all to Covent Garden. We should be most pleased to have you join us.”

“Eh?” The Admiral had caught the last of this speech, and looked up. “The theater?” He frowned. “Yes, I’m afraid I have bad news, Charlotte. I shan’t be able to escort you after all. The War Office has called an important meeting I must attend.”

“The War Office.” Mrs. Careme made a slight face. “I’m sure they see far more of you than we do.”

“I know, my dear, I know. But duty calls, you know, in times of war.”

“War.” Mrs. Careme turned to Susanna with an elegant lift of the shoulders. “I don’t understand why there ought to be a war at all. It seems so unnecessary. And terribly inconvenient. The Admiral tells me it would be too dangerous for us to travel to Paris at all this year.”

Susanna felt her pulse quicken and tried to frame a question that would arouse no suspicion; young ladies were not expected to know about, much less converse on, affairs of state. “You are fond of Paris?” she asked at last.

“I was brought up there. I lived there until I was fourteen.”

Susanna nodded. “I see.” That accounted for the faint accent.

“It’s this wretched Napoleon,” Mrs. Careme went on. “In my opinion, the French people ought simply to expel him from the country. Then we could call off the war and all behave sensibly.”

Admiral Tremain smiled down the table at her indulgently. “I’m sure we all wish that, Charlotte, my dear. But as long as Napoleon is on the throne, we must be prepared to fight. He’ll invade England, if given half the chance.”

“Oh.” Miss Fanny gave a little gasp of alarm, and lifted a hand to her throat. “Oh, don’t say such things, Charles. You make me quite frightened.”

“Now, now, Fanny. There’s nothing to be frightened about. Our British troops are a match for the Frogs any day.”

Marianne looked up from her plate, at that. She had been sitting throughout the meal in smoldering silence, casting occasional black glances towards her father and Mrs. Careme, and now she spoke, her voice cutting harshly across the silence like the lash of a whip.

“Yes, Aunt Fanny. I’m sure we have nothing to fear.” Her voice was heavy with irony. “With men like Father in charge.”

There was another uncomfortable silence, and the Admiral’s face darkened. “Now, see here, young lady,” he began.

But Mrs. Careme interrupted before he could go on. She rose from her chair in a single, fluid movement. “I think it’s time we ladies retired to the drawing room. Shall we?”

She glanced inquiringly round the table, and Susanna, Ruth, Mrs. Haliday, and Miss Fanny rose as well. Only Marianne hesitated, her strongly marked, square-jawed face sullen. Mrs. Careme’s eyes rested on her a moment, a flicker of amusement lurking in their green depths, a faint smile curving the corners of her lips.

Marianne, too, had seen the look. Color swept up under the fair skin, and she lifted her chin, but she rose from the table, trembling. She wore a shapeless gown of some dull grey muslin that could scarcely have been less flattering, and her hair was frizzed out clumsily about her face. She stood there, quivering a moment, eyes bright with tears, and looking pathetically young. Then, without a backward glance, she turned and marched out of the room.

The others followed more sedately, regaining the drawing room and seating themselves about the hearth, where a fire had been kindled in the grate. Susanna found herself seated between her Aunt Ruth and Mrs. Careme. Marianne had refused to join the rest of the group, taking up a book and stalking pointedly to a place on the window seat, while Miss Fanny drew out her tapestry work, threaded her needle, and began making minute stitches in the canvas. Helen Haliday seated herself on the sofa, and appeared to forget the others, staring blindly into the dancing flames.

Mrs. Careme leaned back in her chair with a faint sigh.

“I hope the gentlemen won’t be long. You know what men are, when they get to talking over the port.”

Susanna had not thought Mrs. Haliday was listening, but her head jerked up at that, and her lips tightened. She said nothing, though, and after a moment’s pause, Mrs. Careme went on.

“Though the Admiral is far less inclined to linger, now that there’s no more French wine to be had.” She smiled faintly. “Another casualty of the war.”

“You speak as though doing without French wine were the worst threat we had to suffer.” Miss Fanny’s face was disapproving.

Mrs. Careme shrugged. “So far as I’m concerned, the war is only of interest in so far as it effects our lives. I leave all the worrying over political business to the Admiral. Heaven knows he’s plagued often enough by all this dreary business with the War Office.”

Miss Fanny turned to Susanna and Ruth with a look of pride. “My brother-in-law holds a most important position in the Admiralty. I’m sure they rely on his opinion extensively.”

Mrs. Careme gave another eloquent shrug. “Probably true. But I’m sure it’s very inconvenient when they call sudden meetings in this way and interfere with our plans. We’d been planning the trip to Covent Garden for weeks.”

Miss Fanny shot the younger woman a look of extreme dislike, and there was a brief pause. Then Mrs. Careme went on.

“Mind you, there have been some pleasant effects of the war. I’m sure some of the recent émigrés who’ve come over across the channel are charming.”

“Yes.” A hint of malice crept into Miss Fanny’s voice. “You have gotten to be quite intimate with some of the French gentlemen, haven’t you? That M. Jacques de Castres, for instance.”

Susanna felt her stomach drop. “M. Jacques de Castres?”

Mrs. Careme nodded, a small smile curving her mouth. “Yes. A very pleasant man. Though I do not know him well.” She glanced at Miss Fanny. “He has only been in London a short while.”

Susanna swallowed, willing her voice to remain casual. “Does he . . . ‌does he live nearby?”

Mrs. Careme looked a little surprised, but she nodded. “Yes, quite near here. He has taken a house in Russell Square, near Woburn Place.”

“A vast white marble monstrosity,” Miss Fanny put in. She sniffed her disapproval. “What one man needs with a house that size, I cannot imagine‌—‌except that he is either a hopeless spendthrift or merely enjoys ostentation.”

“I see.” Susanna’s heart had begun to quicken, and she wondered whether she dared risk any further questions. At that moment, though, the door opened to admit Admiral Tremain and Major Haliday.

Major Haliday was by this time showing the combined effects of the wine and the after-dinner port. He was a trifle unsteady on his feet, and his face was flushed, his blue eyes slightly glazed. Susanna’s eyes moved to his wife, and she saw Mrs. Haliday’s hands clench and her lip curl.

Major Haliday clapped the Admiral on the shoulder. “Excellent port, my dear fellow. Excellent. Don’t know when I’ve had better. And now”‌—‌he rubbed his hands together‌—‌“what do you say to a game of cards? Fancy staking a quid or two?”

Before Admiral Tremain could reply, Mrs. Haliday cut in, her voice harsh.

“Don’t you think you’ve gambled away enough of my money, Brooke?” There was a brief silence, while Major Haliday’s face worked, and his color changed from red to dull brick. Admiral Tremain laid a restraining hand on his arm, but the Major shook it off angrily.

“Can’t talk to me that way.” His voice was slightly slurred. “I’m her husband, aren’t I? Woman ought to respect her husband. Lord and master. Master of the house.”

His wife sat perfectly still, watching him, then suddenly laughed contemptuously. “Master of the house? A fine master. Living on his wife’s money.”

Major Haliday lurched forward. “You can’t talk to me that way. I’ll—” Admiral Tremain intervened. “That’s enough, old chap.” Brooke Haliday’s bleary gaze swiveled in the Admiral’s direction. “Can’t talk to me that way. I’ll show her. Woman ought to respect her husband. Ought to . . .” Helen Haliday sat perfectly still, apparently not at all frightened by her husband’s anger. She seemed to know she had nothing to fear from him. His was not the temperament to resort to violence. Even now, he appeared more petulant and querulous than enraged.

“Yes, yes.” The Admiral spoke soothingly. “Quite so. Come along now and we’ll have that game of cards, eh?”

Major Haliday allowed himself to be led away to the table at the other end of the room, still muttering disconsolately. As they moved away, he raised his voice, so that Susanna caught the final part: “Won’t always be living on her money. I’ll make my own money. Make a fortune, d’you hear? Just you wait and see.”