"Freda Warrington - A Taste of Blood Wine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Warrington Freda)

It had been her Aunt Elizabeth's idea to launch her into London
society, an attempt to kill or cure. And like learning to swim by
leaping into the Arctic Ocean, it was killing her. The whole Season
had been a nightmare. If only Anne were here, at least I'd have
someone I could talk to. But her friend Anne had more sense than to
waste her time in what she scorned as "a rich man's marriage
market." I wish some of Anne's good sense would rub off on me,
then perhaps none of this would matter so much…
Charlotte could not account for her fear of people, but it was very
real and it filled her with shame. It was so ridiculous, compared
with the genuine terrors that her brother David and his friend
Edward must have faced in the War. But the guilt she felt only
served to heighten her anxiety.
She watched her slender, copper-haired sisters circulating around
the guests; Fleur tall and elegant, Bohemian-looking in floating
scarves and long loops of pearls, always with a slight smile as if she
knew an interesting secret. And Madeleine, pretty and animated, a
touch of naïveté about her that was charming because it never quite
tipped over the edge into gaucheness. With a cigarette in a long
holder, she looked far more sophisticated than her eighteen years.
And I'm nearly two years older, Charlotte thought. I wish I could be
like them. How did they acquire such poise?
She closed her eyes, imagining she was at home in Cambridge. Ah,
that was better. The closed, quiet world of her father's laboratory…
the bulky curve of his back as he leaned over a piece of equipment,
while she sat with her notebook making sense of his tangential
commentary. The cellar walls dank and bare, but safe, because they

file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/Freda%20Warrington%20-%20A%20Taste%20of%20Blood%20Wine.html (24 of 711)28-12-2006 21:38:58
A Taste


were so familiar. No sound except the dull hum of the generator and
the gurgling of water pipes. No one there except herself, Father and
their assistant Henry, a large, untidy young man with a brilliant
mind so focussed on physics that he gave no thought to his
appearance or social skills. Henry she could tolerate because she
was used to him, and he demanded nothing of her; not like these
society people who expected her to sparkle and parade her attributes
like a circus horse, who then regarded her with disdain when she
failed.
Her chair sagged suddenly under the weight of someone sitting on
the arm. She opened her eyes and found Madeleine beside her, the
beads on her oyster silk dress straining the frail fabric as she leaned
down towards Charlotte. A scent of smoke and perfume clung to her.
"Charli, when's Father giving his lecture to the Royal Society?"
"Oh—next Friday evening." Charlotte was startled. Madeleine had
never shown any particular interest in their father's lectures before.
"What's it about?"