Anne Perry - The Sins of the Wolf

Oonagh smiled as if the answer in some way pleased her.

“You must have seen much waste, and a fearful amount of pain,” she observed. “Of course there will always be deaths, when one is occupied with medicine, but there can be nothing like the battlefield in a hospital. That aspect of it must be a relief to you. Does one get hardened to seeing so much death?”

Hester considered for several moments before replying. This was not a person who deserved, or would accept, a trite or insincere response.

“It is not that you become hardened,” she said thoughtfully. “But you learn to govern your emotions, and men to ignore them. If you allowed yourself to dwell on it you would become so wretched you would cease to be any use to those who were still living. And while it is very natural to pity, it is also quite pointless in a nurse, where there is so much that is practical to do. Tears don’t remove bullets or splint broken limbs.”

A look of calm filled Oonagh’s eyes, as though some irritating question had been resolved. She rose from the chair, ignoring the rest of her tea, and smoothed her skirts. “I am sure you are exactly the person to accompany Mother to London. She will find you most stimulating, and I have every confidence you will be ideal to care for her. Thank you for being so frank with me, Miss Latterly. You have set my mind at rest entirely.” She looked at a fob watch hanging from a ribbon at her shoulder. “It is still some time until luncheon. Perhaps you would like to spend it in the library? It is quite warm in there, and you will not be disturbed, should you wish to read.” She glanced at Deirdra.

“Oh yes.” Deirdra stood up also, “I suppose I had better go and check through the accounts with Mrs. Lafferty.”

“I’ve already done it,” Oonagh said quietly. “But I haven’t been through tomorrow’s menu with Cook yet. You might do that.”

If Deirdra resented her sister-in-law’s assumption of household governance, there was not a shred of it in her face.

“Oh, thank you so much. I hate figures, they’re always much the same, and so tedious. Yes, by all means, I’ll speak to Cook.” And with that she smiled charmingly at Hester and excused herself.

“Yes, I should very much like to read,” Hester accepted.

It had not been precisely an invitation, but she had nothing better to do, so she permitted herself to be directed to the very gracious library, lined with books on three sides, many of them leather bound and tooled in gold. She was curious to see that several of the handsomest, as well as many bound in ordinary cloth, had been printed by Farraline amp; Company. They covered a very wide variety of subjects both factual and fictional. Several well-known authors were represented, both living and from the past.

She selected a book of verse and settled herself in one of the half dozen or so large armchairs and opened it to read. The room was almost silent. Through its heavy door she could not hear the sounds of the household beyond; there was only the faint crackle of a fire in the grate and the occasional tapping of a leaf as the wind caught it and sent it against the window.

She lost track of time, and was startled when she looked up to see a young woman standing in front of her. She had not heard the door opening.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to startle you,” the woman apologized. She was very slender, and quite tall, but her form was forgotten the moment one saw her face. She was one of the loveliest creatures Hester had ever seen; her features were subtle and delicate, yet full of passion. Her skin was fair with that radiance peculiar to auburn coloring, her hair thick in a wild halo around her head, the rich shades of bronzed leaves. “Miss Latterly?”

“Yes,” Hester said, gathering her wits. She laid the book aside.

“I am Eilish Fyffe,” the young woman introduced herself. “I came to tell you that luncheon is served. I hope you will join us?”

“Yes please.” Hester rose to her feet, then turned, remembering to replace the book.

Eilish waved her hand impatiently. “Oh leave it. Jeannie will put it away. She can’t read, yet, but she’ll find the place it came from.”

“Jeannie?”

“The maid.”

“Oh! I thought she was…” Hester stopped.

Eilish laughed. “A child? No-at least, yes. I suppose so. She’s only one of the housemaids. She’s about fifteen, she thinks. But she is learning to read.” She shrugged as she said it, as if to dismiss the subject. Then she smiled dazzlingly. “The children are Margaret and Catriona, and Robert.”

“Mrs. Mclvor’s?”

“No, no. They’re Alastair’s. He is my eldest brother, the Fiscal.” She pulled a slight face as she said it, as if she had been in awe of him until very lately. Hester knew just how she felt, thinking of her own elder brother, Charles, who had always been a trifle forbidding and had far too little sense of the absurd. “Alec and Fergus are away at school. They are Oonagh’s sons. I daresay Robert will be going soon.” She opened the library door into the hall. She made no mention of her own family, so Hester presumed that as yet she had none. Perhaps she had not been long married.

Luncheon was not a heavy meal, and the family present were all assembled as Eilish led Hester into the dining room and indicated the chair she was to occupy. Mary Farraline sat at the head of the table, Oonagh at the foot. On the far side were Deirdra and an elderly man who so resembled the portrait in the hall that Hester was taken aback so much she found herself staring. But it was only coloring and feature, the same fair hair, now thinning drastically, fair skin, and the refined nose and sensitive mouth. The inner man was utterly different. He too had wounds of the spirit, but he gave Hester no sense of uncertainty as the portrait had done, no ambiguity; there was a sharp knowledge of pain which had overwhelmed him, and he had lost to it, while knowing exactly what it was. His blue eyes were sunken and he gazed ahead of him at no one in particular. He was introduced as Hector Farraline, and spoken of as Uncle Hector.

Hester took her seat and the first course was served. Conversation was polite, and generally meaningless; it served the purpose for which it was intended, to convey goodwill without costing any thought or distracting from the meal. Discreetly Hester looked around at their faces, which had so much in common and which circumstance and character had stamped so differently. The only ones not born Farraline were Deirdra and Mary. Where they were slender and fair and well above average height, she was small and dark and inclined to stockiness. Yet there was a fierce inner concentration in her face, a sense of controlled excitement, which gave her a warmth the others lacked. She answered when civility required it, but she did not generate any remarks. Her own thoughts apparently consumed her.

Eilish spoke sporadically, as if prompted by good manners, and in between her thoughts also filled her mind. Hester found herself looking at Eilish repeatedly, possibly because she was so beautiful it was natural to stare, but also because of a sadness she thought she could see through the thin mask of courtesy and interest.

It was left to Oonagh and Mary to raise one agreeable, uncontentious subject after another.

“How long does your journey take, Mother-in-law?” Deirdra asked, turning to Mary as soon as the main course was served.

“About twelve hours,” Mary replied. “Although most of it I shall spend asleep, so it will feel much shorter. I think it is an excellent way to travel, don’t you, Miss Latterly?”

“Indeed,” Hester agreed. “Although the little I saw of Scotland on my way here, I should imagine it is very beau- tiful to look at, especially at this time of the year.”