“See that you do.” Looking somewhat mollified, the dowager said, “While we are on the subject of honoring my son, have you been keeping up your visits to Kensal Green?”
The dowager had insisted on burying Edwin in the exclusive General Cemetery for All Souls in Kensal Green. She’d wanted a mausoleum and a plot as close as possible to that of Prince Augustus Frederick, the Duke of Sussex. To afford that royal proximity, Pippa had sold off some of her jewelry.
She stifled a sigh. “Yes, Mama.”
The dowager shifted her discontent to another target. “Have you done something different with your hair? It is distractingly bright.”
Pippa’s maid had arranged her hair into its usual style, parted in the middle, with ringlets falling to her shoulders. For her mama-in-law’s visit, she’d worn a black lace-edged mourning cap that covered most of her coiffure.
“I’ve done nothing different,” she said.
“Perhaps it is your gown then. Are you certain it is quite dark enough?”
Pippa looked down at her somber skirts. “My dress is black.”
“A smoky shade closer to charcoal, I should say.” The dowager pressed her lips into a line so thin her mouth nearly vanished. “And the luster of the fabric is suggestive of levity, most inappropriate given the occasion.”
“It is bombazine.”Also known as the mourning cloth.
“There is bombazine, and there is bombazine.” The dowager sniffed. “Where you come from, my dear, the difference may go unnoticed, but not so in your current position. Must I remind you of your duty? While my son may be dead, you still bear his name. Mourning him properly is the least you can do considering you bore nothing else of his.”
Chewing the inside of her cheek, Pippa said nothing.
“I will give you the name of my modiste.” Her mama-in-law gave her a once-over. “She can fix any problem.”
It’s always nice to be referred to as a problem, isn’t it?
Pippa took a calming breath and asked, “More tea?”
The dowager stayed longer than usual. As a result, Pippa felt frayed by the time she headed over to Charlie’s. The visit with her mama-in-law brought to bear the errors of her past, the ones she was determined not to repeat.
Ergo, she was done with men. What she needed was a different purpose.
A week had passed; hopefully, Charlie would deem her ready to start investigating again. Hawker, Charlie’s butler and the Angels’ teacher, ushered Pippa in. He looked his usual piratical self with his shaved head, dark beard, and eye patch.
He peered at her. “You ain’t been sleeping well. Something troubling you, lass?”
Was the state of her emotions so dashed obvious?
“I just missed being here,” she managed to say lightly.
“Your presence was missed.” Hawker led the way to Charlie’s study. “But a respite can be good for the body and mind.‘The end of labor is to gain leisure.’”
“Aristotle?” she guessed.
While teaching practical skills such as lockpicking and developing “sticky fingers,” Hawker also liked to infuse his lessons with the teachings of philosophers.
“Always were a sharp one, lass.” A smile flashed in his beard as he opened the door to the study. “Go on in. Lady Fayne’s expecting you.”
Charlie was standing by the study’s tall windows, the sun burnishing her honey-blonde hair, her full merlot skirts rustling as she turned. Relieved to see her welcoming smile, Pippa went over to exchange air kisses.
“It is good to see you, my dear.” Charlie studied her with astute grey eyes. “How was your week?”
“Fine.” Deciding to head off any comments on her appearance, Pippa said, “The reason I look peaked is because my mama-in-law paid me a visit.”
“Ah.” Charlie’s mouth curved wryly. “How bad was it?”
“I feel like I was put through one of those new-fangled washing machines.”
