Seven Dials by Anne Perry

shadows and poverty in the larger world beyond.
    Then the moment passed.
    “So what is it?” Emily asked, folding her hands in her lap and paying complete attention. “Give me something to occupy my mind with other than trivia. I am bored to tears with talk about things that don’t matter.” She smiled with faint self-mockery. “I am afraid my social shallowness is passing. Isn’t that alarming? The pursuit of pleasure isn’t fun anymore. It is like too much chocolate soufflé, which a few years ago I wouldn’t have believed possible.”
    “Then let me offer you something much more ordinary,” Charlotte replied.
    She was about to explain the situation when there was a sharp rap on the door, as with the head of a walking stick, and a moment later the door flew open and a short, fierce old woman stood on the threshold. She was dressed in plum and black, and her expression was one of undisguised outrage, although she did not seem to know whether to direct it at Emily or at Charlotte.
    Perhaps it had been inevitable. Charlotte rose to her feet and with a mighty effort forced herself to smile. “Good morning, Grandmama,” she said, going over to the old lady. “You look very well.”
    “Don’t assume how I am, young woman!” the old lady snapped. “You haven’t called on me in months! How could you know? You have no feelings, no sense of duty at all. Ever since you married that police person you have lost all sense of decency.”
    Charlotte’s resolution to be polite died an instant death. “You have changed your mind, then!” she retorted.
    The old lady was nonplussed. It annoyed her still more. “I don’t know what you mean. Why can’t you speak clearly? You used to be able to. It must be the company you keep.” She glared at her other granddaughter. “Are you going to invite me to sit down, Emily? Or have you lost all your manners as well?”
    “You are always welcome to sit down, Grandmama,” Emily said with veiled patience. “Surely you know that?”
    The old lady sat down heavily in the third chair, balancing her cane in front of her. She turned to Charlotte. “What do you mean, changed my mind? I don’t change my mind!”
    “You said I have lost my sense of decency,” Charlotte replied.
    “So you have!” the old lady said tartly. “No change in that!”
    Charlotte smiled at her. “You used to say I never had any.”
    “Are you going to allow me to be insulted?” the old lady demanded of Emily.
    “I think it is Charlotte who was insulted, Grandmama,” Emily pointed out, but now there was a smile hovering around her lips and she was having trouble concealing it.
    The old lady grunted. “Well, if she was insulted, no doubt she looked for it. Who insulted her? She mixes with a very low class of person. I daresay it is all she can aspire to. Comes of marrying beneath her. I always said it would lead to trouble. I told you-but would you listen to me? Of course not. Well, now you see what happens? Although what you expect Emily to do about it, I’m sure I don’t know.”
    Charlotte started to laugh, and after a moment’s hesitation Emily joined in.
    The old lady had no idea what was funny, but she certainly was not going to admit it. She considered what to do for several seconds, then decided she had least to lose by joining in, which she did. It was a curious, rusty sound, one that even Emily, in whose house the old woman lived, had not heard in years.
    She remained for another ten minutes or so, then in spite of the fact that she was desperately inquisitive as to why Charlotte had called, she dragged herself to her feet and stumped out. It was apparent that no one was going to tell her, and she would not sacrifice her dignity to ask.
    As soon as the door was closed behind her, Emily leaned forward. “So?” she asked. “What is this more ordinary problem that has engaged you?”
    “Gracie has a friend, Tilda Garvie,” Charlotte began. “Her brother, Martin, is valet to Stephen