firsttime. He had been partly shielded by Randolph. Her whole body froze and the blood drained from her skin. She swayed as if dizzy, and put both hands onto the door lintel to save herself.
Peverell rose to his feet immediately, scraping his chair back.
"What is it, Ris? Are you ill? Here, sit down, my dear." He half dragged her to his own abandoned chair and eased her into it. "What has happened? Are you faint?"
Edith pushed across her glass of water and he seized it and held it up to Damaris's lips.
Hargrave rose and came forward to kneel beside her, looking at her with a professional calm.
"Oh really," Randolph said irritably, and continued with his soup.
"Did you have any breakfast?" Hargrave asked, frowning at Damaris. "Or were you late for that also? Fasting can be dangerous, you know, make you light-headed."
She lifted her face and met his eyes slowly. For seconds they stared at each other in a strange, frozen immobility, he with concern, she with a look of bewilderment as if she barely knew where she was.
"Yes," she said at last, her voice husky. "That must be what it is. I apologize for making such a nuisance of myself." She swallowed awkwardly. "Thank you for the water Pev - Edith. I am sure I shall be perfectly all right now."
"Ridiculous!" Felicia said furiously, glaring at her daughter. "Not only are you late, but you come in here making an entrance like an operatic diva and then half swoon all over the place. Really, Damaris, your sense of the melodramatic is both absurd and offensive, and it is time you stopped drawing attention to yourself by any and every means you can think of!"
Hester was acutely uncomfortable; it was the sort of scene an outsider should not be privy to.
Peverell looked up, his face suddenly filled with anger.
"You are being unjust, Mama-in-law. Damaris had no intention of making herself ill. And I think if you have some criticism to make, it would be more fitting if you were to do it in private, when neither Miss Latterly nor Dr. Hargrave would be embarrassed by our family differences."
It was a speech delivered in a gentle tone of voice, but it contained the most cutting criticism that could be imagined. He accused her of behaving without dignity, without loyalty to her family's honor, and perhaps worst of all, of embarrassing her guests, sins which were socially and morally unforgivable.
She blushed scarlet, and then the blood fled, leaving her ashen. She opened her mouth to retaliate with something equally vicious, and was lost to find it.
Peverell turned from his mother-in-law to his wife. "I mink it would be better if you were to lie down, my dear. I will have Gertrude bring you up a tray."
"I . . ." Damaris sat upright again, turning away from Hargrave. "I really ..."
"You will feel better if you do," Peverell assured her, but there was a steel in his voice that brooked no argument. "I will see you to the stairs. Come!"
Obediently, leaning a little on his arm, she left, muttering "Excuse me" over her shoulder.
Edith began eating again and gradually the table returned to normal. A few moments later Peverell came back and made no comment as to Damaris, and the episode was not referred to again.
They were beginning dessert of baked apple and caramel sauce when Edith caused the second violent disruption.
"I am going to find a position as a librarian, or possibly a companion to someone," she announced, looking ahead at the centerpiece of the table. It was an elaborate arrangement of irises, full-blown lupins from some sheltered area of the garden, and half-open white lilac.
Felicia choked on her apple.
"You are what?" Randolph demanded.
Hargrave stared at her, his face puckered, his eyes curious.
"I am going to seek a position as a librarian," Edith said again. "Or as a companion, or even a teacher of French, if all else fails."
"You always had an unreliable sense of humor," Felicia said coldly. "As if it were not enough that Damaris has to make a fool of herself, you have to follow her with idiotic remarks. What is the matter with you? Your brother's death seems to have deprived all of you of your wits. Not to mention your sense of what is fitting. I forbid you to mention it again. We are in a house of mourning, and you will remember that, and behave accordingly." Her face was bleak and a wave of misery passed