Part 13 (1/2)

'Perhaps you have never bought a woman's blouse before,' she said a little tartly, humiliation making her tongue sharp. 'They can be costly.'

'I wasn't proposing that you should buy it,' he replied. 'It is necessary in pursuit of my business, not yours. It is rightly my responsibility.'

'Mine also . . .' she argued.

'May we discuss it inside?' he asked. 'We are drawing attention to ourselves standing in the doorway.'

She moved inside quickly, angry with both him and herself. She should have foreseen this situation and avoided it somehow.

An older woman came towards them, dressed in a most beautifully cut black gown. It had no adornment whatever, the sheer elegance of it was sufficient. She was the perfect advertis.e.m.e.nt for her establishment. Charlotte would have loved a gown that fitted so exquisitely. She still had a very good figure, and such a garment would have flattered her enormously. She knew it, and the temptation to enquire into the purchase was so sharp she could feel it like a sweet taste in her mouth.

'May we see some elegant blouses, please?' Narraway asked. 'Suitable for attending an exhibition of art, or an afternoon tea party.'

'Certainly, sir,' the woman agreed. She regarded Charlotte for no more than a minute, a.s.sessing what might both fit and suit her, then another mere instant at Narraway, perhaps judging what he would be prepared to pay.

Looking at his elegant, and no doubt expensive clothes, Charlotte's heart sank. The woman had probably jumped to the obvious conclusion that they were husband and wife. Who else would a respectable woman come shopping with, for such intimate articles as a blouse? She should have insisted that he take her somewhere else, and wait outside. Except that she would have to borrow the money from him anyway.

'Victor, this is impossible!' she said under her breath, as soon as the woman was out of earshot.

'No it isn't,' he contradicted her. 'It is necessary. Do you want to draw attention to yourself by wearing the same clothes all the time? People will notice, which you know even better than I do. Then they will wonder what our relations.h.i.+p is that I do not take better care of you.'

She tried to think of a satisfactory argument, and failed.

'Or perhaps you want to give up the whole battle?' he suggested.

'No, of course I don't!' she retaliated. 'But-'

'Then be quiet and don't argue.' He took her arm and propelled her forward a little, holding her firmly. She determined to have words with him later, in no uncertain fas.h.i.+on.

The woman returned with several blouses, all of them beautiful.

'If madame would care to try them, there is a room available over here,' she offered.

Charlotte thanked her and followed immediately. Every one of the garments was ravis.h.i.+ng, but the most beautiful was one in black and bronze stripes, which fitted her as if it had been both designed and cut for her personally; and one in white cotton and lace with ruffles and pearl b.u.t.tons, which was outrageously feminine. Even as a girl, in the days when her mother was trying to marry her to someone suitable, she had never felt so attractive, even verging on the really beautiful.

Temptation to have them both ached inside her like a physical hunger.

The woman returned to see if Charlotte had made a decision, or if perhaps she wished for a further selection.

'Ah!' she said, drawing in her breath. 'Surely madame could not wish for anything lovelier.'

Charlotte hesitated, glancing at the striped blouse on its hanger.

'An excellent choice. Perhaps you would like to see which your husband prefers?' the woman suggested.

Charlotte started to say that Narraway was not her husband, but she wanted to phrase it graciously, and not seem to correct the woman. Then she saw Narraway just beyond the woman's shoulder, and the admiration in his face. For an instant it was naked, vulnerable and completely without guard. Then he must have realised, and he smiled.

'We'll take them both,' he said decisively, and turned away.

Without contradicting him in front of the saleswoman, and embarra.s.sing them all, Charlotte had no alternative but to accept. She stepped back, closed the door, and changed into her own very ordinary blouse.

'Victor, you shouldn't have done that,' she said as soon as they were outside in the street again. 'I have no idea how I am going to repay you.'

He stopped and looked at her crossly for a moment.

Suddenly his anger evaporated and she remembered the expression in his eyes only a few moments before, and she was very afraid.

He reached up and with his fingertips touched her face. It was only her cheek, but it was an extraordinarily intimate gesture, with a great tenderness.

'You will repay me by helping me to clear my name,' he replied. 'That is more than enough.'

To argue would be pointlessly unkind, not only to his very obvious emotion, but also to the hope of success that they both needed so much.

'Then we had better set about it,' she agreed, then moved a step away from him and started walking along the pavement again.

The art exhibition was beautiful, but Charlotte could not turn her attention to it and knew that to Dolina Pea.r.s.e she must have appeared terribly ignorant. Dolina seemed to know each artist at least by repute, and be able to say for what particular technique he was famous. Charlotte simply listened with an air of appreciation, and hoped she could remember enough of it to recite back as if she had been interested.

While they walked around the rooms looking at one picture after another, Charlotte watched the other women, who were fas.h.i.+onably dressed exactly as they would have been in London. Sleeves were worn large at the shoulder this season, and slender from the elbow down. Even the most unsophisticated were puffed, or flying like awkward wings. Skirts were wide at the bottom, padded and bustled at the back. It was very feminine, like flowers in full bloom large ones, like magnolias or peonies. With the movement of walking, parasols high to shade the face when outside, however briefly, a group of women gave the fleeting impression of a herbaceous border in the wind. One of the painters should have tried such a thing! Or perhaps they had, and she had been too inattentive to notice.

Tea reminded her of the days before she was married, accompanying her mother on suitable 'morning calls', which were actually always made in the afternoon. Behaviour was very correct, all the unwritten laws obeyed. And beneath the polite exchanges the gossip was ruthless, the cutting remarks honed to a razor's edge.

'How are you enjoying Dublin, Mrs Pitt?' Talulla Lawless asked courteously. 'Do have a cuc.u.mber sandwich. Always so refres.h.i.+ng, don't you think?'

'Thank you,' Charlotte accepted. It was the only possible thing to do, even if she had not liked them. 'I find Dublin fascinating. Who would not?'

'Oh, many people,' Talulla replied. 'They think us very unsophisticated.' She smiled. 'But perhaps that is what you enjoy?' She left it hanging in the air as to whether Charlotte herself were unsophisticated, or if perhaps this was a rustic escape for her from the rigours of London society.

Charlotte smiled back, utterly without warmth. 'Either they were not serious, or if they were, then they missed the subtlety of your words,' she replied. 'I think you anything but simple,' she added for good measure.

Talulla laughed. It was a brittle sound. 'You flatter us, Mrs Pitt. It is ”Mrs”, isn't it? I do hope I have not made the most awful mistake.'

'Please don't concern yourself, Miss Lawless,' Charlotte replied. 'It is very far from the most awful mistake. Indeed, were it a mistake, which it isn't, it could still quite easily be put right. Would that all errors were so simply mended.'

'Oh dear!' Talulla affected dismay. 'How much more exciting your life must be in London than ours is here. You imply dark deeds. You have me fascinated.'

Charlotte hesitated, then plunged in. 'I dare say the gra.s.s is always greener on the other side of the fence. After watching the play last night I imagined life was full of pa.s.sion and doom-laden love here. Please don't tell me it is all just the fervour of a playwright's imagination. You will entirely ruin the reputation of Ireland abroad.'

'I didn't know you had such influence,' Talulla said drily. 'I had better be more careful of what I say.' There was mocking and anger in her face.

Charlotte cast her eyes down towards the floor. 'I am so sorry. I seem to have spoken out of turn, and struck some feeling of pain. I a.s.sure you, it was unintentional.'

'I can see many of your actions are unintentional, Mrs Pitt,' Talulla snapped. 'And cause pain.'

There was a rustle of silk against silk as a couple of the other women moved slightly in discomfort. Someone drew breath as if to speak, glanced at Talulla, and changed her mind.