In the moment their glances met, Emily decided on total candor.
“Good evening, Mrs. Radley,” Lady Parsons said with a flicker of amusement in her pale blue eyes. “You look as if you have business yet to accomplish.”
Pretense would now be absurd. “Good evening, Lady Parsons,” Emily replied. “I am beginning to feel that there is always business to be done. The moment I think I have discharged it all, and am free simply to enjoy myself, something else arises.”
“Really?” Now Lady Parsons was quite openly amused. “If it is your duty to try to persuade me of the virtues of this famous contract, so I may influence my husband’s objections to it, I shall try not to be discourteous in discouraging you. But, my dear, we would be far better employed in discussing something of interest. I know what you are going to say, and I believe you know what I will reply. May we consider it accomplished, and move on?”
Emily smiled back at her without the least need to pretend. “I had already taken that liberty,” she replied. “I came for a completely different purpose.”
“How very sensible. What is it?” Lady Parsons inquired.
“A little information…”
“From me?”
“I think you will put a little less varnish on the truth than most people. And you will have made it your business to know…at least as much as is available,” Emily explained, wondering if she was being too rash, and whether Jack would be furious with her. But then she had no intention of telling him, at least not until it was necessary.
“I am intrigued,” Lady Parsons admitted. “What can it be that I know and you do not?”
“My husband is in a position to offer an advancement to Josiah Abercorn. I am concerned that his judgment may be overgenerous, but possibly it is my own prejudice speaking to me. I find myself unable to learn much about Mr. Abercorn’s life. I hear only praise for his professional acumen, and his charitable work.”
“And you wish to know more?”
“Wouldn’t you? If your husband’s reputation were involved?”
Lady Parsons’s eyes opened wide. “Indeed I would. And I would need precision in the answer…which I cannot give you. I dislike him intensely. He dislikes and is trying to discredit my husband because we are on opposing sides of the contract with the Chinese. It is for a free port there. I daresay you know? No-I see you did not!”
“Not in detail,” Emily said evasively.
Lady Parsons laughed. “Ah, my dear! Not so well fielded. Your eyes gave you away. Still-the information. Josiah Abercorn is a man of elusive background. Apparently his father died before Josiah was born. His mother remained a widow and raised him alone. A woman of unquestionable virtue, she managed to find sufficient means to give him an education. He later received a scholarship. He is undoubtedly brilliant in certain areas.”
“But self-made,” Emily pointed out. This was something to be praised, and yet in many people’s eyes it also carried a certain stigma, an implication of awkwardness, a lack of culture. Could that be what made Abercorn tentative at times? A memory of childhood exclusion, the scholarship boy, the boy without a father, almost without a heritage.
Suddenly her slight irritation with him turned to sympathy, and a degree of respect. She had been born into the gentry and married into the aristocracy. She had carried social place only by being extremely pretty and quick-witted enough to learn how to use charm and intelligence. But confidence makes many things easy.
Lady Parsons was regarding her with interest, waiting for the next question.
“He has never married, I’m told. Is that true?” Emily said.
“So I believe.” Lady Parsons’s mouth twitched in a slight, ironic smile, not without pity. “I daresay he was not considered good enough by the parents of the young woman he considered good enough for him. Something of a dilemma…” She let the words trail, leaving Emily to finish them as she chose.
“There is still time,” Emily observed. “He looks no more than his midthirties, at the outside. Quite a suitable age for a man to marry. Perhaps he does not care to.” She imagined his childhood memories, and perhaps a sense of loss he was not yet ready to risk facing again. Some wounds ran very deep.
“Many things are possible,” Lady Parsons agreed. “I don’t care for the man myself. There is something in him that I find…closed off. But had I walked his path, perhaps I would be a good deal less sanguine myself. Have I been of assistance?”
Emily gave her the widest smile. “You have explained a great deal, and without once descending to gossip. I thank you.”
“I am delighted,” Lady Parsons responded drily. “Perhaps when this interminable contract is finished, we may go out to luncheon one day? Or possibly visit a gallery, or some such?”
“Most certainly,” Emily agreed, and turned the conversation to something quite trivial.
Emily caught up with Cecily maybe a quarter of an hour later.
“It might be over by Christmas, don’t you think?” Emily said with as much warmth as she could.
Cecily looked at her with a moment’s blankness.
“At least the main part of it,” Emily elaborated. “Just details to tidy up. Then we could take a long weekend…”
“Oh…yes,” Cecily said with a forced smile. “That would be very nice. You have a house in the country, don’t you?”
“Yes. Just a few days’ escape…” Emily did not know how to finish. She had not meant to be clumsy, but now that she had, she was looking for a way to redeem the situation.
“So have we,” Cecily murmured, avoiding Emily’s eyes. “But I’m not sure if I want to go. There seems to be…so much here…” She too stopped.
“Can I help?” Emily said gently.
Cecily looked startled. “Am I so obvious? I’m sorry. No, there is nothing anyone can do. But thank you…” She seemed about to go on, then changed her mind.
“It is your son…” Emily began, then seeing the pain in Cecily’s face and the quick stiffening of her shoulders, she wished she had not. It was intrusive, but it was too late to retreat.
“He is still grieving for Dylan,” Cecily explained. “He doesn’t say anything about this fearful bombing, but I can see the change in him when it’s mentioned. He hates the police. There’s nothing Godfrey can say to him that changes his mind.” She stared at something inside herself, her eyes blank to the color and movement around her, the swirl of dresses and glitter of jewels. It was as if she could not hear the laughter.
Emily searched for something to say, and everything that came to her mind was banal, and would only sound as if she didn’t have the slightest understanding.
“Godfrey and Alexander had another quarrel about it yesterday,” Cecily went on, her voice so quiet Emily had to concentrate to hear her. “I don’t think Alexander will come back home again for a long time.” The loss in her face was bleak and total.
“Sometimes you have to believe in your friends,” Emily said. “Even if nobody else does, and all the evidence seems to be against them. Actually, when you are young, and loyalty is passionate, especially then. I think you will have to allow him to accept reality when he is ready to, and perhaps not make any comment. The friendships of youth can be very strong. It’s all tied up with what we believe to be honor. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re right,” Cecily said with a faint smile. “It is a matter of loyalty. They were there together. Alexander escaped and Dylan didn’t. He feels as if he is alive at Dylan’s expense. Sometimes I’m terrified he’ll take his own life, as if he didn’t deserve to have it.” She searched Emily’s face, trying to see if she understood.
Emily put her hand very lightly on Cecily’s arm, a touch so soft only the warmth of her would be felt. “All of us would take the pain ourselves for those we love, most especially our children. We still try to, even when we know perfectly well that we can’t. Right from the time we first held them in our arms, all through their growing years, we pick them up when they stumble, encourage them, believe in them when no one else does, weep for them when they are hurt. The tragedy is if we don’t. No one should be unloved.”