useful to your father,
Fiona wouldn't dream of making any permanent change.' She glanced
at her watch. 'Now, I wonder what's happened to our coffee?'
Joanna's hands, clenched tightly in her pockets, were trembling, but
she kept her voice even. 'As you're one of the family, I suggest you go
to the kitchen and ask. I have to go out.'
'Out again? But you've only just come home. Which reminds me...'
Mrs Driscoll leaned forward, lowering her voice confidentially. 'I
know you won't mind my mentioning it, Joanna, as your own dear
mother isn't here to advise you, but a young widow like yourself
needs to be a little bit careful about her behaviour. I was very
surprised to see you—coming home with the milk, as the saying is.'
'Were you really?' Joanna felt her expression becoming increasingly
glassy. 'I was also extremely surprised to see you.'
Mrs Driscoll disregarded that. 'I've never let Fiona conduct herself
like that. I've no patience with the current code of morality among the
young, and when there's an innocent child to be considered I think it's
important to set proper standards from the first.'
'I agree,' Joanna said too affably. 'But I'd prefer to wait until the
innocent child is actually here before making any drastic alteration in
my way of life.'
Mrs Driscoll glared at her. 'I don't care for that kind of flippancy. I'm
trying to advise you as a friend, remember.'
'Really?' Joanna raised her eyebrows. 'Then all I can say is—God
preserve me from my enemies!'
Bright spots of colour burned in the older woman's cheeks. 'I can't say
your time in America has improved you. You were always a spoiled,
selfish little madam, with too much to say for yourself. You might
remember that you're a guest in your brother's home now.'
Joanna shook her head. 'Wrong. We're all guests in my father's house.
That's something you could bear in mind. Do enjoy your coffee.'
It took all her self-control not to slam the door behind her as she left
the drawing-room. She stood in the hall for a moment, shaking with
temper and an amalgam of other emotions.
She could hardly believe what she'd been hearing. Mrs Driscoll had
always been a rueful joke to the Chalfonts. The kind of
mother-in-law, Simon had once said, on whom music hall jokes were
based.
But she really isn't funny any more, Joanna told herself sombrely as
she mounted the stairs. The writing's on the wall, and she means
business. Daddy's going to be committed to some nursing home,
Nanny and Gresham are to be pensioned off, and I'm to take my
dubious morals elsewhere, leaving Fiona in sole possession.
And the trouble is it could all be managed quite easily while Simon is
so concerned over Fiona and the baby. He'd probably go along with
anything she and her mother dreamed up.
She made her way along to her father's room with a heavy heart.
Nanny greeted her, looking thunderous.
'She'll have to be told,' she said without preamble. 'Mr Anthony can't
do with people barging in on him, asking a lot of daft questions, and
stating their opinions. He's been right upset since she left. What's
come over Mr Simon, asking her to stay?'
'I wish. I knew.' Joanna sat down beside her father, and took his hand.
His eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep, although that was
not necessarily the case. Sometimes it was just another method of
retreating from reality. 'I'll try and talk to him this evening, but I'm not
sure it will do much good. I think we could have problems.'
Nanny snorted. 'Well, this is the house for them, right enough.' She
gave Joanna a piercing look. 'You don't look so grand yourself.'
Joanna forced a smile. 'I'm all right. I just have a lot on my mind. I'll
stay quietly here with Daddy for a while.'
Nanny nodded approvingly. 'He likes that. He missed you a lot when
you went away.'
I may have to go away again, Joanna thought. And what's going to
happen then? She said quietly, 'Nanny, do you think he's getting
worse?'
Nanny's
Fiona wouldn't dream of making any permanent change.' She glanced
at her watch. 'Now, I wonder what's happened to our coffee?'
Joanna's hands, clenched tightly in her pockets, were trembling, but
she kept her voice even. 'As you're one of the family, I suggest you go
to the kitchen and ask. I have to go out.'
'Out again? But you've only just come home. Which reminds me...'
Mrs Driscoll leaned forward, lowering her voice confidentially. 'I
know you won't mind my mentioning it, Joanna, as your own dear
mother isn't here to advise you, but a young widow like yourself
needs to be a little bit careful about her behaviour. I was very
surprised to see you—coming home with the milk, as the saying is.'
'Were you really?' Joanna felt her expression becoming increasingly
glassy. 'I was also extremely surprised to see you.'
Mrs Driscoll disregarded that. 'I've never let Fiona conduct herself
like that. I've no patience with the current code of morality among the
young, and when there's an innocent child to be considered I think it's
important to set proper standards from the first.'
'I agree,' Joanna said too affably. 'But I'd prefer to wait until the
innocent child is actually here before making any drastic alteration in
my way of life.'
Mrs Driscoll glared at her. 'I don't care for that kind of flippancy. I'm
trying to advise you as a friend, remember.'
'Really?' Joanna raised her eyebrows. 'Then all I can say is—God
preserve me from my enemies!'
Bright spots of colour burned in the older woman's cheeks. 'I can't say
your time in America has improved you. You were always a spoiled,
selfish little madam, with too much to say for yourself. You might
remember that you're a guest in your brother's home now.'
Joanna shook her head. 'Wrong. We're all guests in my father's house.
That's something you could bear in mind. Do enjoy your coffee.'
It took all her self-control not to slam the door behind her as she left
the drawing-room. She stood in the hall for a moment, shaking with
temper and an amalgam of other emotions.
She could hardly believe what she'd been hearing. Mrs Driscoll had
always been a rueful joke to the Chalfonts. The kind of
mother-in-law, Simon had once said, on whom music hall jokes were
based.
But she really isn't funny any more, Joanna told herself sombrely as
she mounted the stairs. The writing's on the wall, and she means
business. Daddy's going to be committed to some nursing home,
Nanny and Gresham are to be pensioned off, and I'm to take my
dubious morals elsewhere, leaving Fiona in sole possession.
And the trouble is it could all be managed quite easily while Simon is
so concerned over Fiona and the baby. He'd probably go along with
anything she and her mother dreamed up.
She made her way along to her father's room with a heavy heart.
Nanny greeted her, looking thunderous.
'She'll have to be told,' she said without preamble. 'Mr Anthony can't
do with people barging in on him, asking a lot of daft questions, and
stating their opinions. He's been right upset since she left. What's
come over Mr Simon, asking her to stay?'
'I wish. I knew.' Joanna sat down beside her father, and took his hand.
His eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep, although that was
not necessarily the case. Sometimes it was just another method of
retreating from reality. 'I'll try and talk to him this evening, but I'm not
sure it will do much good. I think we could have problems.'
Nanny snorted. 'Well, this is the house for them, right enough.' She
gave Joanna a piercing look. 'You don't look so grand yourself.'
Joanna forced a smile. 'I'm all right. I just have a lot on my mind. I'll
stay quietly here with Daddy for a while.'
Nanny nodded approvingly. 'He likes that. He missed you a lot when
you went away.'
I may have to go away again, Joanna thought. And what's going to
happen then? She said quietly, 'Nanny, do you think he's getting
worse?'
Nanny's
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