Free Elizabeth Mansfield by The Counterfeit Husband

would keep very much to themselves. But they
would
avail themselves of the many cultural and artistic activities that London offered—the museums, the libraries, the opera, the shops and the parks. Pippa needed more intellectual stimulation than she could find in the country. “And I myself,” she added gently, “need to get away from these surroundings which remind me so much of … of death and mourning.”
    Ethelyn remained unconvinced, but she was powerless to force her sister-in-law to accede to her will. Camilla was, after all, twenty-nine years old and possessed of more-than-adequate means. What Ethelyn would have found consoling would have been to remove Philippa from her mother’s guardianship. She’d even consulted the family solicitor about the possibility. But there were no legal grounds on which they could build a case. Ethelyn, being female, had no stronger claim to the guardianship than the child’s mother. If only she’d thought about it before her brother had died, she could have persuaded him to place the guardianship in Oswald’s hands. Now, of course, it was too late …
    Ethelyn had never set foot in London in her life and therefore despised the place with the unshakable conviction of prejudiced ignorance. She’d heard enough lurid tales and gossip to convince her that it was as iniquitous as Sodom, and she warned Camilla that she would never, as long as she lived, set foot in her sister-in-law’s London establishment. “So you needn’t expect any visits from
me!
” she warned. “Although I shall be willing to welcome you here. I shall expect you for all the important religious observances, of course, and for the warm-weather months as well.” She fixed an eye on Camilla coldly. “And when you’ve realized that I am right about the unsuitability of those surroundings for your daughter, you will, of course, send her promptly home to me.”
    Camilla, who had chosen London as the locus of their new home for precisely the reason that Ethelyn never would visit there, merely lowered her eyes and kept silent. She’d won the war; there would be little harm in letting Ethelyn believe she’d won a small part of this last battle.
    When they realized they’d been victorious, Camilla, Pippa and Miss Townley gathered behind the closed door of Camilla’s bedroom and hugged each other in unrestrained elation. The future was suddenly wide open with exciting possibilities. “What wonderful adventures we’ll have!” Pippa exclaimed, whirling about the room deleriously. “It will be like living a
novel
!”
    Her mother tried to restrain the child’s imagination from running riot. “It certainly will
not
,” she said, trying to frown. “We shall live in quiet modesty, just as we always have.” But her imagination was scarcely less riotous than her daughter’s, and she concluded her reprimand by lifting the child in her arms and spinning her about until, laughing and breathless, they both fell dizzily upon the bed.
    While waiting to hear from Hicks that a house had been found and made ready for them, the three hurled themselves into a frenzy of packing. Besides their clothing and personal effects, there were some paintings, household articles, pieces of furniture and a great number of books which Camilla had purchased over the years that, if Ethelyn should not object, she wished to take with her. The next few days were spent going over lists of these items with her sour-faced sister-in-law and setting aside those things which Ethelyn agreed could be removed. Later, Miss Townley and Camilla packed the articles carefully with their own hands, and often with Pippa’s assistance. It was the only activity which seemed to ease their impatience to be gone.
    For Pippa, the waiting was almost unbearable. With typical childish avidity, she chaffed at the delay as day followed day without a word from the butler. “Why doesn’t he write?” she asked nightly, when her mother tucked her into bed. “Why