Free Danse de la Folie by Sherwood Smith Page A

said quickly, “You are
thinking perhaps it will not answer, my going to stay with someone so recently
a stranger to us. But recollect Clarissa and I spent all this time solely in
one another’s company, and I know she feels grateful for the rescue. And oh,
she is so easy to talk to, and though she is ever so well read, she is kind.”
    “Miss Harlowe’s manners are particularly good,” he said,
still staring down at the fire.
    Kitty’s eyes widened. “You do not think she only pretends to
like me?”
    “No, Kitty. That is, not precisely. But she does not know
you, and you cannot say you know her after a mere day’s acquaintance.”
    “But I have formed a very good impression of her. What
inspires your doubt, Carl? Do you think her invitation insincere? Surely you do
not believe she is the sort of heartless fashionable that you despised in
London on your one visit?”
    “I do not. Yet we know so little about her or her family,
beyond the title, the family name, and that they live in Hampshire. We do not
know what kind of welcome you might meet.”
    “Though I have never been to London, please credit me with
some sense,” Kitty exclaimed indignantly. “Do you think I would wish to go if I
thought they were all like that horrid aunt?”
    “I think there is very little you would not tolerate if you
thought you were to go to London.” He smiled.
    Kitty pressed her lips on a retort that a kind invitation would have been for the
two weeks following Easter, one would think.
    Aloud, she said only, “Clarissa has spoken a little of her
family. I do not believe that I will find unwelcome there. Except perhaps from
Mrs. Latchmore. The things she said
to Alice and Mrs. Finn! But that is neither here nor there.”
    “Why is she not married?”
    “Who? Mrs. Latchmore? She is a widow.”
    “No. Miss Harlowe,” he said, walking to the window. He stood
thus, looking out, though the darkness must have precluded his seeing much.
    Kitty gazed at him in astonishment. “I can scarcely ask her
that, not unless we had known one another for ages. Though I own, it seems odd
to me, too.” Kitty’s eyes narrowed reflectively. Her interest in people caused
her to consider her guest. “She did mention offers, but delicacy forbids me to
ask more. Perhaps she has no wish to marry. Why these questions, and the long
face? Do you mislike Clarissa?”
    “I have scarcely exchanged a hundred words with your guest.
I cannot claim to be any more than acquainted.”
    “Then,” Kitty waved her hands, “you must sit down with her
and converse. She is as well read as you are. You shall find her interesting, I
vow and declare.” She peered into her brother’s face. His expression was
somber, and so she said in a very different tone, “Carl? Do you really fear
that my going to London is a mistake?”
    He dropped into his chair and forced a smile. “Not at all.
Merely, I wish circumstances were such that I might be taking you to London. I am failing you in that I am not.”
    She flew up out of her chair and gave him a quick embrace. “Absurd
creature! As if it were duty to waste time and money on such a thing. I regard
Clarissa’s invitation as an unlooked-for treat, a reward for our good offices
when their yacht strayed so horribly into our path. Let us hear no more of
duty. And,” she said earnestly, her cheeks red, her gaze determined, “I would
be less than honest if I did not assure you that there are things I would as
lief give the go-bye, even to get to London.”
    He looked up sharply, and she took a deep breath. “I did not
wish to go with Lucretia. And not just because I knew I would be sitting in
their house listening to them plan balls, and talk of their invitations, or
watching Lucretia and Lucasta while they are visiting milliners and
dressmakers. The truth is, I always feel so countrified in her company. I did
not become aware of it until I spent this time with Clarissa, with whom I never
felt it, not for a