Ashworth Hall by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online Page B

She stood back, pulling her face into an expression of acute anxiety. “You should feel the tension. If these people are typical of the rest of the Irish, I can’t imagine how anyone thinks they are going to find peace between them. Even the women dislike each other.”
    “Well, they are Irish as much as the men,” Charlotte pointed out with a smile. “And possibly they are Catholic or Protestant as much, or just as dispossessed, or just as frightened of losing what they have and have worked for.”
    Emily looked surprised. “Do you know something about it?” She was wearing a morning dress of pale green, a color which suited her fair hair and complexion extraordinarily well, and she looked quite lovely in spite of her agitation.
    “Only what Thomas told me,” Charlotte replied. “Which was not a great deal. Naturally he had to explain why we were here.”
    “Why are you?” Emily sat down in one of the large, floral-covered chairs and pointed to another for Charlotte. “Of course you are most welcome, I don’t mean to sound ungracious. But I should like to know why anyone thinks the police should be here. They are hardly going to come to blows, are they?” She looked at Charlotte with a half smile, but there was a note of genuine alarm in her voice.
    “I doubt it,” Charlotte replied candidly. “I think there is probably no danger at all, but there have been threats on Mr. Greville’s life, so they have to take every precaution.”
    “Not from one of the guests here!” Emily said with horror.
    “I shouldn’t think so, but naturally they were anonymous. No, I expect it’s just a matter of being careful.”
    “Anyway, I am very glad you are here.” Emily relaxed a little. “It is going to be a most testing weekend, and it will be far easier with you to help than trying to do it alone. I’ve often had visitors here before, of course, but of my own choosing, and people who like each other. For goodness sake, do try to be tactful, won’t you?”
    “Do you think it will make any difference?” Charlotte said with a grin.
    “Yes! Don’t talk about religion, or parliamentary franchise or reform, or education … or landowning, or rents, or potatoes … or divorce ….”
    “Potatoes or divorce!” Charlotte said incredulously. “Why in heaven’s name should I talk about potatoes or divorce?”
    “I don’t know. Just don’t!”
    “What can I talk about?”
    “Anything else. Fashion … except I suppose you don’t know about it. Theater—but you don’t go to the theater, except with Mama, to watch Joshua—and you better not mention that our mother has married an actor, and a Jewish one at that. Mind, I think the Catholics are too busy hating Protestants, and the Protestants hating Catholics, to care about Jews one way or the other. But they probably all think anyone on the stage is wicked. Talk about the weather and the garden.”
    “They’ll think I’m a simpleton!”
    “Please!”
    Charlotte sighed. “Yes,” she agreed. “It is going to be a difficult weekend, isn’t it?”
    Luncheon fulfilled her prophecy. They met in the large dining room around a table long enough to seat twenty but set for twelve. Jack Radley welcomed Charlotte, and then introduced her, and of course Pitt, to the rest of the company, and they all took their places. The first course was served.
    Charlotte had been placed between Fergal Moynihan on her left and Carson O’Day on her right. Fergal was a striking-looking man of slightly above average height and refined aquiline features, but she thought there seemed little humor in his face. She was not immediately drawn to him, although perhaps it was her image of an intransigent Protestant which unfairly prejudiced her.
    Carson O’Day was a smaller man, far grayer, and at least fifteen or twenty years older, but there was a strength in him it did not take more than a glance to see. His manner was benign and courteous, although beneath the niceties of the social