Death of a False Physician (Hippolyta Napier Book 2) by Lexie Conyngham
Author:Lexie Conyngham [Conyngham, Lexie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Kellas Cat Press
Published: 2016-12-30T05:00:00+00:00
Dinner was a stiff meal, in which Patrick did his level best to keep a cheerful conversation alive with the slightly desperate air of a man hovering over the last flame in a damp fire. Galatea, to be fair, passed a few comments, but Mrs. Fettes said almost nothing, and Hippolyta, not used as Patrick was to a high level of professional discretion, kept finding her mind bouncing back to the events of the last twenty-four hours and words she should not speak springing to her lips. Both Patrick and Hippolyta were aware of the fragrance of balm about the room. Mrs. Fettes seemed to be the principal source, and Hippolyta noticed a particular wave of it when Mrs. Fettes adjusted the scarf about her throat. It quite spoiled her enjoyment of Mrs. Riachâs delicately flavoured beef: she hoped there would be some left so that she could go back to it later, balm-free.
They had retreated into the parlour where at least Patrickâs violin could keep the silence away, when there came a knock on the front door. After a moment, Ishbel appeared at the parlour door with a practised curtsey.
âMr. Durris to see Dr. Napier, please, sir.â
âOh!â said Patrick, setting down his violin. âVery good.â He disappeared and Hippolyta heard both men going into the study across the hall. She longed to go, too, but managed, just, to stay in her seat, valiantly making another attempt at conversation.
âI thought Mrs. Strachan and her daughters were all prodigiously pretty last night, didnât you?â she asked.
âShe dresses very young for a woman who has two daughters out in society,â said Galatea sniffily.
âPerhaps, but sheâs very fashionable. Iâm sure you did not think to see such Edinburgh fashions this far north!â
âI know little of Edinburgh fashions these days,â said Galatea. âYouâll find, when you take on responsibilities of your own, that there are more important things than the tilt of a bonnet, or the depth of ornament on your skirt hem.â
Hippolyta had rather thought that she had taken on responsibilities of her own, but Galatea probably thought she had not taken them on thoroughly enough. She sighed. She probably meant children, but then she was sure she remembered Galatea still dressing fashionably after her children were born. She wondered if she would be allowed to be grown up by her family when she herself had children: she imagined not.
The silence must at last have overcome even Mrs. Fettesâ stoicism, and she announced that she would retire for the night. Galatea quickly agreed that she would do so, too. Hippolyta waited until they had gone upstairs, then went and tapped on the study door.
âCome in!â Patrick called.
âIâm sorry to interrupt,â said Hippolyta disingenuously, âbut I thought I ought to tell you that Mother and Galatea have retired for the night.â
âOh good!â said Patrick. âI mean: they both looked tired. Iâm glad they have gone to rest early.â
She met his eye with a raised eyebrow, and he had the grace to pinken just a little.
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