A Christmas Hope by Anne Perry

celebrating Christmas in different languages. Donations were to be given to charities in aid of the unfortunate.
    She had not intended to attend; it was a last resort in order to find Oona. As such, Claudine arrived late and was obliged to sit in the back row. That turned out to be a blessing, since from there she could see everyone else, and in the intermission Oona would be obliged to pass by her if she wished to leave for the refreshments. Considering the seriousness and the monotony of the songs, that was extremely likely. Claudine herself would certainly leave and do everything within her power to avoid being invited to meet the hostess, or anyone else for whom she would have to invent a flattering opinion. Itwould be comparatively easier to part with a suitable financial offering.
    In the end, Oona saw Claudine before Claudine saw her.
    “Thank goodness!” Oona said with intense relief. “Please say you have something urgent to discuss with me and we must do it alone, because it would be most ill-mannered to disturb other people’s listening enjoyment by making a noise. We must find somewhere private … as soon as possible. My head is ringing from these high notes. I’m not sure I shall ever hear a top C again without ducking in case the chandeliers shatter in pieces.”
    Claudine did not bother to hide her pleasure, even if she made a rather poor attempt to disguise it as surprise.
    “How fortunate I am to see you,” she said, quite seriously. “I’m afraid I must ask you to interrupt your enjoyment and spare me time to speak with you a little more privately. Most inconsiderate of me, I know, but it really does matter.”
    Oona looked taken aback. She searched Claudine’s face for sarcasm and found none.
    “I’m perfectly serious,” Claudine assured her. “Seeingyou is actually the reason I came. You didn’t think I came for the music, did you?” She made the tone light and her smile a little rueful. She liked Oona, and being candid was not difficult, only a little uncomfortable in that she did not wish to hurt her.
    Oona held out her hand in a gesture of invitation. “Then let us find somewhere uninterrupted and discuss whatever it is you wish.” She turned and led the way out of the gallery and up a flight of steps to a landing out of sight from the main hall.
    “What’s happened?” she asked when they faced each other. “Not something more to do with Tregarron, is it? I really don’t know who invited him. It certainly was not I. I suspect it might have been Creighton Foxley.”
    “It is to do with Tregarron, one way or another,” Claudine admitted, trying to get her thoughts in order. She had expected to have to work her way toward candor, not be pitched headfirst into it at the moment of meeting. Now her careful plans were completely overturned. “I had a delightful meeting with Alphonsine the other day,” she continued after a pause. “She told me she is shortly to become engaged to Ernest Halversgate.” She let the statement hang in the air as if it were a question. She studied Oona’s face as she framed herreply. She saw anxiety in it and a degree of uncertainty. It mirrored her own feelings exactly.
    Oona was extraordinarily candid, more than any other woman in Claudine’s acquaintance would have been. “Do you know something about Ernest Halversgate that you think perhaps I don’t?” she asked.
    Claudine replied with another question. She was surprised how much she cared that Oona should think well of her, or at the very least know that she spoke out of honesty and concern, not unkindness.
    “Do you know Mr. Halversgate very well?”
    “No. Alphonsine is my stepdaughter. This arrangement has been made by her father, and I do not believe it is my place to question his judgment—even had I any cause to.” She frowned, the concern in her face deepening. “Are you suggesting that there is some reason why I should?”
    “I know nothing ill of him,” Claudine assured her.