A Lady of Good Family by Jeanne Mackin Page A

those rooms in Paris where the couple had cohabited for so many years. There had been another letter from his lawyerawaiting them when they returned to the hotel, another discussion of terms and conditions. “Ending a marriage seems to require more legal maneuvers than ending a war,” Minnie had commented. “I guess they do have much in common, the two situations.”
    “It was more than the air in the crypts,” Minnie said now, returning to their conversation about the morning expedition. “Something upset you.”
    “I began to imagine things. Movements in the shadows, someone, something, watching us.”
    “Rome is giving you fancies. You seem to be changing before my very eyes.” Minnie sat in the chair opposite her daughter and watched as Annie poured them coffee from the service tray a bellhop had brought. Their rooms were still being straightened, and a couple of maids peeked in at them from the separate bedrooms.
    Their own maid, the very protective Annie, watched them closely. She had decided that all hotel maids were little better than thieves and that nothing would go astray under her careful gaze.
    “I hope this trip was a good idea,” Minnie said.
    “It was a necessary idea,” Beatrix countered. “For both of us.”
    “Yes,” Minnie agreed. “We will both go home changed—that is certain. Is that the point of travel? Unfortunately, the travel does not seem to agree with Edith and Teddy. They have decided to leave Rome.” The maids finished and left.
    Annie gave the bedding a proprietorial straightening, punching pillows and pulling coverlets tighter.
    “Thank you,” Minnie called to her. “You have been on your feet all day. Why not have a rest?”
    “Thank you, ma’am.” Annie bobbed a little curtsy.
    “The trip does not seem to have improved relations between Aunt Edith and Uncle Teddy,” Beatrix agreed.
    “You see that, too. No. I would say it has worsened the situation. Teddy used to enjoy traveling, but this trip seems to be causing him distress. That may be the secret to achieving serenity in an intimate relationship,” Minnie mused, more to herself than to her daughter. “Two people who simply want to be in the same place at the same time. After a few years of marriage your father and I never even wanted to be in the same room together.”
    Beatrix leaned over and took her mother’s hand, giving it a gentle shake, the way mothers do to distract unhappy children away from the barking dog or grumbling nanny.
    “Oh, Beatrix, I shouldn’t speak like this in front of you. You will lose heart before you’ve even tried to live. It wasn’t all Freddie’s fault, you know, the separation. He needed a wife who would be more devoted, who would spend all her time with him, not in charity wards and committee meetings.”
    “But shouldn’t a woman’s world be larger than what he expected?” Beatrix asked.
    •   •   •   •
    W hen Minnie took her afternoon nap, Beatrix sat in their shared sitting room, thinking. Between her mother and her aunt, marriage did, indeed, seem a dismal prospect. But without it, how could a woman experience life fully? Was it better to remain a virgin, safe and unsullied, or to test those vestal vows and eventually be buried alive in the debris of lost love? Passion,it seemed, could not survive the tests of the simple day-to-day routine that marriage required.
    She should have been born a man. They did not have to choose between home and profession, tame marital bed and wild, secret passion. She stood and paced, back and forth.
    The hotel room seemed too small to contain her restlessness. She would go for a walk and leave her mother to her rest and then her writing table and that letter from the lawyer in Paris that must be answered. Annie was snoring gently in the little dressing area where her bed was set up. Beatrix decided not to disturb her. She could go out alone.
    She put on her wrap, the dark-colored one that covered most of her figure,