Always in April

VII.

Cecelia did not feel like dancing so she went to the refreshment room, ate a piece of cake without tasting it, then took a glass of wine and went to sit down on a couch next to her mother. Lady Hatherington was talking to Mrs Astley and Major Godfrey. The topic was French lace. Lady Hatherington was trying to persuade Mrs Astley to write to her son who was in Paris and have him smuggle some French lace back for her. Mrs Astley was applying to Major Godfrey for the best advice on how to sneak it past customs. Major Godfrey was trying to persuade them to declare it. Major Godfrey lost, but it didn't matter anyway. Mrs Astley did not think it right to apply to Mr Astley for Lady Hatherington's sake.

"A shame it is that your son-in-law did not bring any back for you," Mrs Astley said. "That would have been almost proper."

Lady Hatherington never spoke poorly of Sebastian in company, so she merely smiled. "He's a lovely boy, but a little forgetful," she said.

"But is he lovely?" Mrs Astley opened her eyes wide. "My daughter danced with him and I was a little nervous of that, for we know so little about Mr Price. He is very mysterious, really, being away in Paris all this time."

"Oh he's very sweet," Lady Hatherington said vaguely. "But a little shy."

Shyness explained any number of sins, but Seb wasn't, not really. Cecelia stood up and walked listlessly back and forth behind the couches. Seb, shy. No. He was very sure of himself. He knew his place, he knew what people thought of him, and he didn't take it to heart. He just shut them out. Put them where they couldn't hurt him.

Behind her, the conversation continued.

"A well-spoken boy," Major Godfrey conceded. "And I did notice, as handsome as they say."

"Well, yes," Mrs Astley agreed. "Not that I don't prefer dark men myself—" her eyelashes fluttered in the major's direction "—but often one hears these rumours, you know, and then the man turns out to be nothing more than an overdressed skinny toad!" She laughed shrilly. "But anyway, young Mr Price is not so bad, not so very bad at all. I think, on balance, that it is true."

Lady Hatherington frowned. "That what is true?"

"Oh." Mrs Astley covered her mouth with her fan. "I forgot he was your son-in-law."

"That what is true?" Lady Hatherington repeated.

"You have not heard?" Mrs Astley looked nervous now. "I— I don't know that it's my place to say..."

No one seemed to be looking at Cecelia at all, and she had suddenly the idea that no one ought to be. She stood very still in a dark corner by the fireplace, her heart racing.

"Major Godfrey, do you know?"

"I have heard some rumours about Mr Price," Major Godfrey said carefully. "That he is handsome, yes. There were rumours he was very good looking."

"That the women were after him," Mrs Astley burst. "That was it."

That was very obviously not it. Lady Hatherington was not stupid either. She narrowed her eyes.

"Whose wife was it then?"

Only silence answered her.

"Well go on, tell me. It's not true, you know. The boy didn't do it. I'll promise you that. He's honourable."

She spoke with anger, not conviction. Cecelia hoped the others in the room did not know the difference. Major Godfrey leaned forward and spoke a name low in Lady Hatherington's ear. She went white.

"He did not," she repeated. "He absolutely did not."

"Then why was he shot?" Mrs Astley asked. "Why else would the ambassador shoot him?"