Nobody would remember it, and
trimmed with some of her mother's lace, the big flounce and the fichu,
it would be a different thing. Sophia could wear her apricot.
'Come along, Henrietta. Come along, Rose. We must really get this
settled.'
They went upstairs, Caroline moving with heavy dignity, but keeping up
her head as she had been taught in her youth. Nothing was more
unbecoming than ducking the head and sticking out the back. Sophia
went slowly, holding to the balustrade, so very slowly that Henrietta
did not attempt to start. She said softly to Rose, 'How slowly she
goes. I've never noticed it before.'
'She always goes upstairs like that,' Rose said. 'It is not natural to
her to hurry.'
Henrietta followed and found Sophia panting a little on the landing.
She laid hold of her niece's arm. 'A little out of breath,' she
whispered. 'Don't say anything, dear child, to Caroline. She doesn't
like to be reminded of our age.'
They went into the bedroom and Rose, drifting into her own room, heard
the opening of the great wardrobe doors. She would be called in
presently for her advice, but there would be a lot of talk and many
reminiscences before she was needed. She stood by the fire, which,
giving the only light to the room, threw golden patches on the white
dressing-gown lying across a chair, and made the buckles on her shoes
sparkle like diamonds.
She was wondering why Henrietta's eyes had darkened as though with
fear at the idea of going away.
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