‘Ten!’ Emily snapped. Then in spite of herself she began to laugh, even though the tears running down her face were not really those of amusement.
Charlotte put her arms around her and hugged her briefly, then stepped back. ‘We had better get started,’ she said in a businesslike way. ‘We must get to know Dudley and Rosalind Kynaston, and the possibility of Jack being offered a position with Kynaston is the perfect excuse.’
Emily put her shoulders back and lifted her chin a little. ‘I shall begin immediately. I’m freezing standing here. I thought tropical jungles were supposed to be warm! Let’s go home and have some tea by the fire, and hot crumpets soaked with butter.’
‘An excellent idea,’ Charlotte agreed. ‘Then I shall have to have a whole wardrobe of new dresses, a size larger.’
‘You could give me that one,’ Emily regarded it with pleasure. ‘I could have it taken in to fit me!’
Charlotte pretended to slap her, and tripped over a piece of fallen branch, only just righting herself before she overbalanced. This time Emily really laughed, a swift, bubbling sound full of delight.
‘How kind!’ Charlotte said under her breath, then couldn’t help laughing as well.
The arrangement was fulfilled three days later when Charlotte and Pitt met Emily and Jack at the theatre. There had been no further progress either in finding Kitty Ryder alive, or in identifying the body on Shooters Hill. Other news had overtaken the issues raised in Parliament by Somerset Carlisle’s questions. However, it was only a matter of time before they would need to be addressed more urgently. Pitt had not deluded himself that the case was over, and Charlotte was quite aware of the tension in him above that of the usual concerns of his position.
It was the opening night of a new play, and therefore something of an occasion. Emily had been both fortunate and clever to obtain four tickets. Formal dress was required, which Pitt hated. On the other hand, he enjoyed seeing Charlotte wear a really beautiful gown of warm coral and russet tones with even a touch of hot scarlet in the brocade. It was brand new; the skirt was perfectly flat at the front and around the hips, not a line possible for everyone. It widened like a bell at the bottom, so cleverly was it cut. It was unadorned; the beauty of the fabric said everything.
Glancing at herself in the looking-glass for a final time, Charlotte had to admit that even without expensive jewellery she looked striking. She could not afford such things and did not wish Pitt to be extravagant in giving them to her. She wore no necklace at all. This was rather a daring decision, but it only drew attention to her still smooth jawline, her slender throat and the warmth of her natural colouring. Her thick, dark chestnut hair was coiled upon her head and there was a slight flush in her cheeks. Her pearl and coral earrings were perfect.
Pitt did not say anything, but the admiration in his eyes was more than sufficient. Even Jemima was impressed, although she was reluctant to say so.
‘That’s a nice gown, Mama,’ she muttered as Charlotte reached the top of the stairs. ‘Better than the green one.’
‘Thank you,’ Charlotte accepted the compliment. ‘I prefer it myself.’
Pitt bit his lip to hide a smile.
‘You look very handsome, Papa,’ Jemima added, this time more wholeheartedly.
Pitt did not imagine for a moment that he was handsome — distinguished at best — but in his daughter’s eyes he was, and that was of far more importance. He gave her a quick hug, and then followed Charlotte down to the waiting carriage, which had been hired for the occasion.
It was a gusty evening with an edge to the wind, but at least it was dry.
They arrived in good time, but the theatre foyer was already quite crowded. From the moment they came up the steps into the arc of the glittering lights, Pitt saw people he knew, albeit professionally rather than socially. He was absorbed into nods of acknowledgement, brief words of greeting, a smile here or there. They were his acquaintances, not Charlotte’s, which was a radical change from the early years of their marriage when she had known everyone and he had been there only because of her. She found herself smiling, walking with her head a little higher. She was proud of him … actually, very proud.
She was the first of them to see Jack. She was struck again by how handsome he was. The few extra years had given him maturity, a sense of something more than simple good looks. The sharp light was unkind in showing more than one might see in the gas or candlelight of a withdrawing room, but the few lines around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes gave him character, and knowledge of emotion rather than a blank page on which little was yet written.
Emily was a step or two away, speaking to someone else. Her fair hair gleamed, almost like an ornament in itself, making her diamond earrings unnecessary. She was wearing a gown of pink lilac threaded with silver and stitched with tiny pearls. It was gorgeous in itself, and of course had the perfect new skirt, but it did not flatter her as a cooler shade would have done. Also it was going to clash with Charlotte’s gown about as much as it was possible for two colours to detract from each other. Perhaps they should have consulted together first? But Charlotte had little choice, and Emily had a room full of gowns. The fashion rage at the moment was turquoise, and it would have been perfect for her!
Too late now. The only option was to carry it off with bravado. She walked over towards Emily, smiling as if delighted to see her.
Emily turned from her conversation to see Charlotte almost beside her, and a moment later they kissed cheeks lightly.
Jack turned also and the appreciation in his eyes as he saw Charlotte was unmistakable. The evening was already off to a shaky start.
General polite greetings and trivial conversation continued for another few minutes until Jack seemed effortlessly to have guided them towards a couple who were striking-looking — at least the man was. He was tall with a mane of thick fair hair and strong features. The woman was more ordinary, but beautifully dressed. Her face was gentle, but there was no fire in it, no passion. Her gown, on the other hand, was stitched — one might say encrusted — with turquoises and tiny beads of crystal, and of course the new, five-piece cut of skirt, totally flat around the hips and yet sweeping towards the full, bell-like bottom, and more beads just above the hem.
The man’s eyes mirrored Jack’s appreciation of Charlotte, then as he turned to Pitt, the light faded from them and he paled visibly.
‘May I present my brother and sister-in-law, Mr and Mrs Thomas Pitt,’ Jack said courteously. ‘Mr and Mrs Dudley Kynaston …’
Kynaston swallowed. ‘Commander Pitt I have met. How do you do, Mrs Pitt?’ He bowed very slightly to Charlotte.
‘How do you do, Mr Kynaston?’ she responded, trying to keep the sudden flame of interest out of her expression. ‘Mrs Kynaston.’ She was fascinated. Neither of them was what she had expected. Her mind raced for something harmless to say. She must engage them in conversation of some sort. ‘I believe the play is quite controversial,’ she began. ‘I hope that is true, and not just a fiction to spark our interest.’
Rosalind looked surprised. ‘You like controversy?’
‘I like to be asked a question to which I don’t have the answer,’ Charlotte replied. ‘One that makes me think, look at things I think I am familiar with, and then see them from another view.’
‘I think you will find some of these views might make you quite angry, and confused,’ Kynaston said gently, glancing at his wife before turning to Charlotte.
‘Angry, I can well believe,’ Pitt said with a discerning smile. ‘Confused, I think less likely.’
Kynaston was startled, but he did his best to hide it.
Jack stepped in to bridge a rather embarrassed silence. He looked at Kynaston. ‘Have you seen reviews of the play, sir?’ he asked with interest.