Paragon Walk by Anne Perry Page B

Nashes.”
    “Surely one cannot expect such a thing of anyone,” Charlotte rejoined, “except the most wretched and desperate of people.” She was thinking of the slums and rookeries Pitt had spoken of, but even he had told her little of the real horror. She had only guessed, as much from the hollow look of his face and his long silences as from anything he had said.
    “I always thought poor Fanny such an innocent child,” Frederick Dilbridge went on, as if in answer to her. “Poor Jessamyn. All this is going to be very hard for her.”
    “And for Algernon,” Grace added, looking out of the corner of her eye to where Algernon Burnon was turning away a baked pie and helping himself to another glass of port from the footman. “Poor boy. Thank God he was not yet married to her.”
    Charlotte could not entirely see the relevance.
    “He must be very grieved,” she said slowly. “I cannot imagine a worse way to lose one’s fiancée.”
    “Better than a wife,” Grace insisted. “At least he is now free—after a decent interval, of course—to find himself someone more suitable.”
    “And the Nashes had no other daughter,” Frederick also took a glass as the footman hovered. “That’s something to be thankful for.”
    “Thankful?” Charlotte could hardly believe it.
    “Of course,” Grace looked at her with raised eyebrows. “You must be aware, Mrs. Pitt, how hard it is to get one’s daughters married well as it is. To have a scandal such as this in the family would make it well nigh impossible! I should not wish any son of mine to marry a girl whose sister was—well—” She coughed delicately and glared at Charlotte for obliging her to put into words something so crass. “All I can say is, I am vastly relieved my son is already married. A daughter of the Marchioness of Weybridge, a delightful girl. Do you know the Weybridges?”
    “No,” Charlotte shook her head, and, mistaking her meaning, the footman whisked the tray away and she was left with an empty hand outstretched. No one took any notice, and she withdrew it. “No, I don’t.”
    There was no polite reply to this, so Grace returned to the original subject.
    “Daughters are such an anxiety, until one has them married. My dear,” she turned to Emily, reaching out her hand, “I do so hope that you have only sons—so much less vulnerable. The world accepts the weaknesses of men, and we have learned to put up with them. But when a woman is weak, all Society completely abhors her. Poor Fanny, may she rest in peace. Now, my dear, I must go and see Phoebe. She looks quite ill! I must see what I can do to comfort her.”
    “That’s monstrous!” Charlotte said as soon as they were gone. “Anyone would think from the way she speaks that Fanny went out whoring!”
    “Charlotte!” Emily said sharply. “For goodness’ sake don’t use words like that here! Anyway, only men go out whoring.”
    “You know what I mean! It’s unforgivable. That girl is dead, abused and murdered here in her own street, and they are all talking about marriage opportunities and what Society will think. It’s disgusting!”
    “Sh!” Emily’s hand gripped her hand, her fingers digging in painfully. “People will hear you, and they wouldn’t understand.” She smiled with rather more force than charm, as Selena approached them. By her side George breathed in deeply and let it out in a sigh.
    “Hello, Emily,” Selena said brightly. “I must compliment you. It must be a most trying experience, and looking at you one could hardly tell. I do admire your fortitude.” She was a smaller woman than Charlotte had realized, fully eight or ten inches shorter than George. She looked up at him through her eyelashes.
    George passed some trivial remark. There was a faint flush on the bones of his cheeks.
    Charlotte glanced at Emily and saw her face tighten. For once Emily seemed to think of nothing to say.
    “We must also admire you,” Charlotte stared at Selena