her emotions with anyone. "I am pleased you will take tea with us. Please be comfortable." She- did not move her body, but the invitation was implicit.
Hester thanked her again and sat, not in the least comfortably, on the dark red sofa farthest from the fire. Edith and Damaris both seated themselves and introductions were completed, Randolph Carlyon contributing only what was required of him for civility.
They spoke of the merest trivialities until the maid came with the last of the dishes required for tea, paper-thin sandwiches of cucumber, watercress and cream cheese, and finely chopped egg. There were also French pastries and cake with cream and jam. Hester looked at it with great appreciation, and wished it were an occasion on which it would be acceptable to eat heartily, but knew unquestionably that it was not.
When tea had been poured and passed Felicia looked at her with polite enquiry.
"Edith tells me you have traveled considerably, Miss Latterly. Have you been to Italy? It is a country I should have liked to visit. Unfortunately at the time when it would have been suitable for me, we were at war, and such things were impossible. Did you enjoy it?"
Hester wondered for a frantic moment what on earth Edith could have said, but she dared not look at her now, and there was no evading an answer to Felicia Carlyon. But she must protect Edith from having appeared to speak untruthfully.
"Perhaps I was not clear enough in my conversation with Edith." She forced a slight smile. She felt like adding "ma'am," as if she were speaking to a duchess, which was absurd. This woman was socially no better than herself - or at least than her parents. "I regret my traveling was in the course of war, and anything but educational in the great arts of Italy. Although I did put in to port there briefly."
"Indeed?" Felicia's arched eyebrows rose, but it would be immeasurably beneath her to allow her good manners to be diverted. "Did war oblige you to leave your home, Miss Latterly? Regrettably we seem to have trouble in so many parts of the Empire at the moment. And they speak of unrest in India as well, although I have no idea whether that is serious or not."
Hester hesitated between equivocation and the truth, and decided truth would be safer, in the long run. Felicia Carlyon was not a woman to overlook an inconsistency or minor contradiction.
"No, I was in the Crimea, with Miss Nightingale." That magic name was sufficient to impress most people, and it was the best reference she had both as to character and worth.
"Good gracious," Felicia said, sipping her tea delicately.
"Extraordinary!" Randolph blew out through his whiskers.
"I think it is fascinating." Edith spoke for the first time since coming into the withdrawing room. "A most worthwhile thing to do with one's life."
"Traveling with Miss Nightingale is hardly a lifetime occupation, Edith," Felicia said coolly. "An adventure, perhaps, but of short duration."
"Inspired by noble motives, no doubt," Randolph added. "But extraordinary, and not entirely suitable for a - a - " He stopped.
Hester knew what he had been going to say; she had met the attitude many times before, especially in older soldiers. It was not suitable for gentlewomen. Females who followed the army were either enlisted men's wives, laundresses, servants, or whores. Except the most senior officers' ladies, of course, but that was quite different. They knew Hester was not married.
"Nursing has improved immensely in the last few years," she said with a smile. "It is now a profession."
"Not for women," Felicia said flatly. "Although I am sure your work was very noble, and all England admires it. What are you doing now you are home again?"
Hester heard Edith's indrawn breath and saw Damaris swiftly lower her eyes to her plate.
"I am caring for a retired military gentleman who has broken his leg quite severely," Hester answered, forcing herself to see the humor of the situation rather than the offense. "He requires someone more skilled in caring for the injured than a housemaid."
"Very commendable," Felicia said with a slight nod, sipping at her tea again.
Hester knew implicitly that what she did not add was that it was excellent only for women who were obliged to support themselves and were beyond a certain age when they might reasonably hope for marriage. She would never countenance her own daughters descending to such a pass, as long as there was a roof over their heads and a single