sit down, Anne.”
“But…”
“Charlotte has her own home to think of,” interrupted Anne, with a searching look that promised she hadn’t really dropped the subject.
Lizzy looked mutinous, then heaved a great sigh. She looked around the room as Anne sat in the shabby armchair. “Why do you sit up here? All the best rooms are downstairs.”
“Lizzy,” admonished Anne.
“Well, they are.”
“Your uncle’s collection is housed there, and it must stay in place, according to his will. So I… established myself up here.”
“It’s so small.”
Charlotte realized that she’d stopped really seeing the room, indeed the whole house, long ago. She’d had no power to change anything, and her opinions were always mocked. It became easier to narrow her vision down to nothing.
Her drawing room was small. It had been the boudoir of some eighteenth-century mistress of the house, and there was barely room for the small sofa and two armchairs. Bland china figurines cluttered the mantel; she’d never liked the faded flowery print of the curtains—blowsy and pink. Compared with the sisters’ elegant home, it was plain, charmless, and neglected.
“It’s very cozy,” said Anne, frowning at her younger sister.
Charlotte became aware of an odd scratching sound. Were there mice, too, she wondered despairingly? But the noise seemed to be coming from the hamper in the corner. “What is…?”
Lizzy grimaced. “I can’t leave Callie alone at our house.”
“Callie was discovered under a cupboard in the kitchen gnawing a joint of beef,” explained Anne, poker-faced. “A very costly joint of beef.”
“I did not let her out of the schoolroom! Cook says she can walk through walls.”
“You brought the cat?”
“I can’t leave her there,” Lizzy repeated. “Alec is going to get rid of her.”
“He is only sending her down to the country, Lizzy.”
“She won’t like it there. She’s a London cat. She won’t understand about the foxes. They’ll eat her!”
“I’m sorry, Lizzy,” Charlotte began. And she saw the idea being born in the girl’s dark blue eyes.
“If you are going to live here…”
“Yes, but I…”
“You could keep her, and I could come to visit.”
“I’m sure Callie wouldn’t like…”
“She’d be company for you,” Lizzy continued, nodding as if vistas were opening before her inner eye. “I’m sure she would be very good. And I would come every day to feed her and play with her.”
Though Charlotte was certain the cat would be anything but good, the thought of Lizzy’s company was pleasant. Not that it would truly be every day, of course… This pleasing picture dissipated. Seeing the sisters, she’d almost forgotten the recent disaster. Now, it all came rushing back. “Your brother will not wish you to visit. It…”
“I don’t care what he thinks! He’s being an absolute pill!”
A thought occurred to Charlotte. “Does he know you’re here?”
Anne evaded her eyes; Lizzy met her gaze with practiced, yet irresistible, pleading. “So, can Callie stay? Please?”
Charlotte tried, but she couldn’t resist her. “Well… all right. But when you return to the country, you must take her with…”
Lizzy was already up, heading for the hamper. Belatedly, Charlotte remembered the shelves of ancient pottery, the cases of fragile artifacts, downstairs. She jumped up and closed the drawing room door just as Lizzy undid the catch.
“You will like it here,” Lizzy cooed. “Charlotte is here. And I will come to see you every day.” The calico cat burst out of her prison, looked wildly around, and disappeared under the sofa. A moment later, a cat sneeze testified to the dust beneath it. Lizzy fell to her knees and peered into the darkness. “Callie.”
“Remember she needs to get used to a new place,” said Charlotte feebly. What had she done?
Lizzy remained on the floor. The others did not immediately realize that she was weeping. When they did, Anne rose and went to her. Gently, she pulled her up and back to her chair. “Everything is horrid!” Lizzy cried. Anne gave her a handkerchief. “Alec is beastly. Frances does nothing but moan. And now Anne will be gone all the time.”
“Not all the time, Lizzy. Hardly any time.” In answer to Charlotte’s look she added, “I am to attend a few gatherings for young people who are coming out next year. And a dancing class. My Aunt Earnton arranged it, so that I have some acquaintances.”
“Oh yes, Frances mentioned that to me. A useful idea.”
Lizzy snuffled. “I know I am a selfish pig. I know it is very good for you. It’s just… why can’t things be more like they used to?”
Charlotte ached for her. She was so familiar with the feeling