Bewildered at her aunt’s response, Belinda rummaged through her mind, trying to place the names.
‘Chaffee’? Did we meet them at the rout party?
Then, she remembered writing the nameImogene Chaffeeon an envelope just days earlier.
The thin, hard line of Rose’s mouth loosened a little to tell the maid, “Well, I suppose you ought to show them in.”
As Lindy held her breath, wondering what sort of she-devils were about to invade the parlour, a pair of quite average looking misses appeared. They lingered in the doorway, brazenly surveying the room.
With all trace of her upset set aside, Aunt Rose rose to her feet.
“Anne, Clarice! It has been so long – come in, do. Let me look at you! So lovely, as to be expected.” She made no move to embrace either of them. “Tea please, Minnie. Thank you. Girls, come – sit! And meet my niece – myotherniece – Belinda Everson. Belinda, these are the daughters of George’s sister, Anne and Clarice Chaffee.”
With a proud tilt of her head, Clarice acknowledged Lindy as she sat down. Anne, however, only studied her while perching herself on the edge of the settee. Clutched in her hand was a reticule which she positioned precisely as if to draw attention to its intricate beadwork. Though settled now, neither sister was finished appraising the parlour, their heads turning this way and that, as if none of the room’s details would dare to escape their notice.
With a sweeping glance, Lindy made some assessments of her own. Anne was thin with honey-gold hair. Clearly, she was the elder sister, probably nearly the age of thirty, and Belinda wondered if the look of effrontery on her face was a permanent fixture.
Clarice looked to be no older than Belinda herself. Truly blonde, her person and expression were softer in appearance than her sister’s, though her eyebrows remained upraised as if she was rather surprised at everything around her. She might have been pretty if her smile did not appear so brittle.
“So this is where you keep yourself while you are in town,” she said, her eyes still roaming. “We always wondered, didn’t we, Anne?”
“It serves our purposes nicely,” Rose responded, ignoring the weighty look the sisters exchanged.
When they were children, Nell had told Lindy that she disliked herother cousins. Thinking it improper to ask why, Belinda had not done so. Now, just two minutes with the Chaffees was proving to be explanation enough. She hoped that once the tea arrived, the sisters would drink it quickly, and be on their way.
“Is that a Broadwood Square?” Clarice asked, craning her neck towards the pianoforte. Awaiting no answer, she went to play a few bars of a country reel upon it, expertly so. Belinda feared it might awaken her uncle upstairs, but it was a mercifully brief show of skill as Clarice soon returned to her seat.
“And what brings you girls here this morning?” Rose asked, holding her placid demeanour. Belinda noticed that the pen she had dropped still lay on the floor at her feet.
‘How did they find us?’ she asked. When will my aunt learn thatImust have been the one to point their way to Hertford Street?
“We knew we had to come at once when we heard of Uncle George’s illness,” Anne began, her voice void of any inflection. “How are you bearing up, aunt?”
Hearing a stranger call this beloved woman ‘aunt’ – and saying it with a touch of disdain – set Lindy further on edge.
“As well as one might expect,” Rose replied.
Hearing a quaver in her voice, Belinda reached to hold her hand.
Anne’s eyes settled coldly on the gesture as she asked, “And how fares my dear uncle?”
Rose’s fingers tensed within Belinda’s grasp as she replied, “He is recovering – remarkably quickly.”
This sounded more optimistic than Belinda would have answered herself but she would not contradict her aunt for all the world.
“And how is your mother, girls?” Rose asked, recapturing herself.
“Oh, did you not know? I suppose that is what comes of lack of communication between our households.” Anne sniffed. “Mamma has been quite debilitated these last two years. She hoped to rally herself, so great was her concern for her brother, but she found it necessary to send us in her stead. Shall we go and see him now?”
It sounded more like a demand than a request. Bracing herself, Belinda did not doubt that if the Chaffees knew their uncle’s precise whereabouts, they would scuttle up the stairs as if they owned them.
“No, he is resting presently,” Rose replied decisively. “But, of course, I will tell him of your visit when he awakens.”
Anne looked as if she would say more, but did not as Minnie entered with the tea service.
“And how is Nell, Aunt Rose?” Clarice asked, eyeing what the maid was setting down. “We were so sorry to miss her wedding.”
From her snide tone, Belinda surmised that the Chaffees had not been invited.
