Silence in Hanover Close by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

since Veronica planned to remarry? There seemed more in her face than awareness of her daughter-in-law’s pain, or even envy, or anything so vulnerable as self-pity. Her small, strong hands were white in her lap, and her eyes were glittering and sharp. Had not such an idea been so out of place, even ridiculous, Charlotte might have thought it a warning of some sort. But that was groundless, and an inaccurate observation.
    Veronica’s full lips curved upwards in a tiny smile. Clearly she understood the significance of the reply.
    “Indeed, Mr. Radley, you may congratulate me,” she said, looking up at him. “I am to be married again.”
    In that instant Charlotte made a mental note that Veronica York and Jack Radley had certainly had a friendship that was more than merely amicable, at least on her part.
    Jack smiled as if it were a happy surprise to him. “I hope you will have every blessing and good fortune.”
    “And so do I,” Charlotte added. “I hope sadness will be completely in the past for you.”
    “You are something of a romantic, Miss Barnaby,” Mrs. York remarked with her eyebrows raised. She was almost smiling, but there was a coldness in her that was palpable, something hard deep inside that was unresolved. Perhaps it was an old wound, and nothing to do with this. One never knew what pain or disillusion lay in other people’s lives, what lost hopes. Charlotte must endeavor to meet the Honorable Piers York at some time; it might explain much that she could only guess at now.
    She smiled as dazzlingly at Mrs. York as she could. “Oh, but of course. Even if the reality is not always as one would wish, I hope for the best.” Was that the right sort of naïveté, or had she overdone it? She must not sit here for the brief half hour that was socially acceptable, and then leave again without having learned a thing. It would be some time before she could call again.
    “So do I,” Veronica reassured her. “And it is most kind of you. Mr. Danver is an excellent man, and I am sure I shall be very happy.”
    “Do you paint, Miss Barnaby?” Mrs. York asked, changing the subject abruptly, this time without looking at Veronica. “Perhaps Mr. Radley might take you to see the winter exhibition at the Royal Academy. I daresay it may interest you.”
    “I don’t paint very well.” Let them take that as modesty, or the truth, as they chose. Actually, like all well-bred young ladies, she had been taught to paint, but her brush was never equal to her imagination. Since she had married Pitt and had two children, her only hobby had been meddling in his cases and detecting a great deal. She had a gift for it—even Pitt admitted so—but she could hardly own to that now!
    “I had not supposed you to enter a work, Miss Barnaby, merely to observe,” Mrs. York replied with a small gesture of her hand, a wry dismissal of foolishness that stung Charlotte. But in her role as Miss Barnaby she was helpless to retaliate. “No skill would be required,” Mrs. York continued, “except to look elegant and speak modestly. I am sure you could do both of those with the greatest of ease.”
    “You are very kind,” Charlotte said between her teeth.
    Veronica leaned forward. She really was a beautiful woman, her face combining both fragility of bone with strength of mouth and eye. Her manner was as friendly as if they had known each other for some time. Charlotte found herself hoping Pitt would find her blameless enough to satisfy the people at the Foreign Office. The thought of their judgments lit a spark of anger inside her.
    “Perhaps you would care to come with me,” Veronica offered. “I should be delighted to have your company. We could make all the remarks we wished and be utterly frank about what we like and dislike.” She did not look at her mother-in-law, but raised one slender shoulder in the smallest gesture of exclusion.
    “I should be delighted,” Charlotte accepted sincerely. “It would be the greatest