A Lady Never Tells(114)
They began to rummage through the trunks, finding mostly old clothes, but also a cloth doll with a china head, somewhat battered, and a miniature tea set with a chipped teapot. There were old composition books, filled with childish notes and essays. The diaries they found were all those of a child, filled with scrawls about lessons, meals, and, primarily, her sisters. Lily read these aloud, adding her own dramatic inflections, as the others rummaged through the trunks, and everyone laughed to hear the accounts of Phrony’s bossiness or Cyn stealing Phyl’s lemon drops or the four girls conspiring to play a trick on their governess.
“I should hold this over Aunt Euphronia’s head,” Charlotte declared. “The next time she tells me my boys are wild as March hares, I’ll remind her about the frog in Miss Carpenter’s bed.”
“Oh, look!” Rose brought out a wooden box and opened it. A mirror was attached inside the lid, reflecting the little figures of a man and a woman dressed in clothing from the past century, their hands held up to touch as they dipped toward one another.
“It’s a music box! How sweet.” Charlotte reached over and wound the key. The figures sprang to jerky life, turning in a minuet.
“It’s her jewelry box.” Rose set it down and began to take out the objects tucked away in the satin squares—two rings that were too small to fit anyone but a child, several filigree buttons, a couple of pairs of earrings, a glittering brooch shaped like a vase of flowers, a tortoiseshell bracelet, and a pendant portrait of a gentleman in a white wig.
“Children’s things and paste,” Charlotte said, picking up the brooch and looking at it. “A girl her age would not have had many valuable items, and no doubt she took with her the few she did.” She turned to the portrait on the pendant. “This is the old earl, her father.”
“How sad.” Rose ran a thumb across the pendant. “She must have been so angry with him she didn’t even want his picture. I wonder if she regretted it later.”
“Here are some letters.” Camellia pulled a small stack out of another trunk. The letters were bound by a dark green ribbon, which Camellia tugged open. “Lady Cynthia Talbot. They’re all addressed to Aunt Cynthia here at Willowmere.”
The girls glanced toward Charlotte, who looked puzzled. “My mother? But she told me she never received a letter from Aunt Flora. She said she wished she had known where she was, that she would have offered her help.”
“They haven’t been opened.” Camellia handed the missives to her.
Charlotte turned the top letter over, frowning as she examined the unbroken seal and the address. “I suspect Aunt Euphronia or Lord Reginald must have kept them from Mother. I don’t think she would have ignored all these. Perhaps the first one, out of respect for her father. But Mother is much too softhearted not to have even read any of them.” Charlotte thumbed through them, counting. “There are eight. Aunt Flora must have decided then that Mother had cut her off, too. How sad.” She echoed Rose. Charlotte raised her head. “May I take these to my mother? I know she would like very much to see them. I truly don’t think she knew of their existence.”
“Of course. Take them. They were written to her, after all.” Mary glanced at her sisters for confirmation, and they nodded.#p#分页标题#e#
Charlotte tied the letters again and set them aside as the girls continued with their exploration. Mary opened the last trunk, which was filled primarily with clothes. Lying on the top was a small leather case bound with ribbon. When she untied it, the case folded open to reveal several sheets of paper. She drew in her breath sharply as she looked at the angular writing.
“Papa! This is Papa’s handwriting.” Quickly she scanned the letter. “He’s asking for our grandfather’s forgiveness. Oh my, this must have cost him dearly.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “He says that he should bear full responsibility for their elopement, that Mama did not wish to go against her father, but Papa talked her into it. Which is absolutely not true!” Mary added fiercely, looking up at her sisters.
“Of course it isn’t,” Rose agreed. “Mama said she was furious with her father, and she was determined to elope.”
“But Papa wants our grandfather to forgive Mama. He talks about his three little girls—Lily, you must not have been born yet—and he says how sorry he is that they will grow up without knowing their family. Listen: ‘I do not ask for your aid. Though our lives are not the sort which Flora and I knew in England, we are too happy to wish for anything other than what we have. My wife, however, feels the loss of paternal love, and I would ask that you write and assure her that your face is not turned against her.’”