Page 12 of The Trick of the Treasure
“Oh, just a few little charities.”
Constance glanced at her work. “What are you knitting?”
“A scarf. For the poor.”
“That is kind.”
“Not very,” Audrey said distractedly. “A mere drop in the ocean, really. One does what one can, when one has so much while others have nothing. Imagine not being able to keep your children warm in winter, or even fed. It is a great gift, to be born into a wealthy family, don’t you think?”
Those weak eyes blinked up at Constance, who, on impulse, spoke honestly.
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know. I made my own way in the world.”
Audrey smiled at her. “Did you, dear? I admire that. When will you marry Mr. Grey?”
The question flustered Constance. “We have not yet set a date.”
“You should. If you love him.”
Oh, I love him. That was never the issue…
“I suppose he is different,” Audrey said. “Does your family not approve?”
“My mother would marry him herself if she could.”
Audrey laughed, an unexpectedly merry sound. It lightened her tired face and the weak eyes behind the spectacles. Constance thought that she was probably still on the right side of forty, although she looked older most of the time.
“So what do you think happened to Barnabas’s treasure?” Audrey asked.
“I don’t honestly have a clue,” Constance admitted. “Yet.”
All the same, she had noticed Jemimah casting both anxious and imploring glances at Mr. Devine, who was now in laughing conversation with Sydney. Jemimah alone had been unsurprised by the young man’s visit. No servant had shown him in, which meant that the security of the Lloyds’ abode was less than perfect. Or that the servants were so used to his being received that they let him find his own way—the privilege, surely, of only the most frequent and favored of callers. Interesting.
Excusing herself to Audrey, Constance walked over to join Jemimah at the table, where she was replacing the plates she had just been offering to the guests.
“What a beautiful gown,” Constance said, guessing what would most please the girl at this moment.
“Oh, do you think so? Thank you! It’s new.”
“I can see that,” Constance said gravely. “Quite the height of fashion, too.”
“So is yours,” Jemimah replied with just a hint of wistfulness. “I wish I were as beautiful as you are.”
“I’m not really, you know. If you behave as if you are, people tend to believe it.”
Jemimah’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“I have found so.”
She frowned. “How does one behave as if one is beautiful?”
Constance leaned closer. “Well, for one thing, one does not keep trying to catch the eye of the gentleman whose admiration she wishes to attract. She ignores him, in the knowledge that he will come to her.”
Jemimah blushed, looking guilty. “What if he doesn’t?”
“That rather depends on the gentleman in question. Are we talking about Mr. Devine?”
“Does it show?” Jemimah asked ruefully.
