Angel in Scarlet by Jennifer Wilde Page A

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    Marie wasn’t in the kitchen. She was in the parlor with my stepsisters, and all three of them fell silent when I entered. Janine was on the sofa as usual, but she wasn’t stretched out. She was sitting up, and her large blue eyes weren’t as placid as usual. They looked worried. Marie was sitting by the window in the familiar garnet silk dress and black apron she always wore when she was working, her thin, sharp-featured face painted as usual, orange-blonde hair stacked atop her head with ringlets spilling over her brow. Her eyes were glittering brightly, full of angry determination. Solonge stood by the window, breathtakingly gorgeous in a lime green frock. Her red-gold hair glistened like pale fire in the sunlight streaming through the window behind her. She looked defiant, I thought, looked impatient, too, all that vivacity and temperament held carefully in check. I had obviously stumbled in on one of the fierce arguments Marie periodically had with her daughters.
    â€œI put the groceries in the kitchen,” I said.
    â€œGo to your room, Angela!” Marie ordered.
    â€œLet her stay,” Solonge said. “She’ll have to find out sooner or later.”
    â€œThis isn’t—”
    â€œAngie’s no longer a child, and she happens to be a member of the family, though you’re so busy clucking over us you seem to forget it most of the time. Sit down, Angie,” Solonge told me. “We’re in the middle of an earthshaking crisis.”
    â€œCrisis?”
    â€œJanine’s pregnant,” she said dryly.
    I stared at her, stunned, certain I must have misunderstood her. Janine pregnant? I could hardly believe it. Solonge, now, that wouldn’t have surprised me, although she always bragged about being so careful, but Janine was so indolent she could scarcely stir herself enough to go out with any of the youths who came calling. I couldn’t imagine her having enough energy to perform the gyrations necessary for pregnancy to occur.
    â€œJanine?” I said. “Pregnant?”
    â€œUnquestionably.”
    â€œHow did it happen?”
    â€œBetween naps,” Solonge said bitterly.
    Janine sighed wearily and leaned back against the pillow, idly rearranging the folds of her pink and blue striped frock. Silvery blonde hair atumble, cheeks a delicate pink, she looked at her sister with resentful blue eyes and said there was no need to be bitchy about it, accidents happened all the time, and then she swung her legs up and stretched out full length on the sofa, making herself comfortable.
    â€œI don’t know what all this fuss is about,” she added. “Teddy wants to marry me.”
    Marie drew in a sharp breath, her long jet earrings swaying as she jerked her head around to glare at her oldest daughter.
    â€œHe would!” she snapped. “It would be a coup for him, winning the hand of one of my daughters. A bookseller! A pitiful clerk in a bookstore! Yes, indeed, that would be just dandy . The two of you could move into his elegant rooms over the store and live luxuriously on his generous salary. What does he make? Ten pounds a year? Fifteen?”
    â€œTeddy?” I said. “Teddy Pendergast?”
    â€œThe same,” Solonge told me.
    â€œHe isn’t a clerk,” I said. “He’s the manager. He’s very nice, always smiles at me when I come in.”
    â€œHe smiled at me, too,” Janine said. “He has a very nice smile and the warmest brown eyes.”
    â€œWhat in the world were you doing in Blackwood’s?” I asked.
    â€œBrowsing,” Solonge said.
    â€œIt was starting to rain and I just stepped inside to stay dry and there was no one else in the shop but Teddy and he was very polite, very attentive. I love that thick bronze hair of his. I love his soft, caressing voice, too. He asked if I’d like some tea and I said yes and we had the tea and ate cakes I’d just