Serpent in the Garden by Janet Gleeson

ever since she set eyes on the necklace, she has taken inordinate pride in wearing it, and does so at every opportunity.”
    Joshua watched Violet drift across the room to bring her mother over.
    He had met her only fleetingly prior to her departure for London, on the morning after his arrival. Already he had remarked the perfect symmetry of her face and the elegance of her bearing. She was a remarkably handsome young woman: as tall as Juno, finely boned, with plentiful hair dark gold in hue, blue-gray eyes fringed with dark lashes, and the same honey-colored complexion as her mother. Her dress, he noted with great pleasure, was as immaculate as her face: she wore a bodice and skirt of lilac silk embroidered with flowers and trimmed with a tulle pleated frill about the neck and cuffs. The skirt was pinned back to reveal a petticoat of rich purple brocade.
    Her face and garb were like those of an angel, that much was clear to Joshua, but he had found unraveling her character less simple. At their first meeting she had avoided light conversation whenever possible, speaking only in response to direct questions, then gazing into the distance, seemingly oblivious to her immediate surroundings, as if some pressing matter preoccupied her. Now, however, he began to suspect that it was Caroline’s animosity toward Violet that had made her reticent and withdrawn. This evening, with Lizzie Manning to encourage her, she presented an altogether different side. By the time supper was finished and the assembled party had moved to the drawing room, where the men sat down for a hand of cards, Lizzie Manning and Violet threaded their arms together and appeared to be on the most cordial terms.

    THE DRAWING ROOM was long and narrow, with an ornate molded ceiling and walls lined with pea green damask silk, studded with landscapes and portraits of various Bentnick forebears. In the center of one wall, above a grand chimneypiece, hung a full-length portrait of Jane Bentnick painted by Thomas Gainsborough at Bath only a year or two earlier. Few artists, in Joshua’s opinion, gave the viewer pleasure with such ease as Gainsborough. There was depth yet enviable naturalness to his style. Jane wore a fashionable Van Dyck costume of sky blue silk with a pointed lace collar and a lavishly plumed hat. She looked the ideal of graceful womanhood, and yet, in the turn of her head, the set of her mouth, and in those heavy-lidded brown eyes there was wit, determination, character in abundance. Such was the spell Gainsborough wove that for some time Joshua paid little attention to the cards he was dealt. What would Jane Bentnick have made of her husband’s choice of new bride? What would she have thought of her children’s suspicions? Was Herbert’s hurried engagement a sign that his union with Jane had been blissfully contented, or unhappy?
    Joshua regarded the ladies, who had settled themselves on gilded chairs around the fire. Caroline Bentnick took up her embroidery, then she began to plead with Lizzie Manning to divert them by playing something on the piano. “And I shall sing,” declared Violet, looking more radiant than ever. Lizzie Manning agreed and the two moved to the piano, just as Herbert gave a loud cough and urged Joshua to concentrate on the cards on the table. From the corner of his eye Joshua saw Sabine move closer to Caroline, and he dimly heard the beginnings of their conversation.
    “Your father tells me you intend to wear a dress that belonged to your mother at our engagement ball,” said Sabine without preamble. “I think that is a delightful notion. Now, tell me, what jewelry will you wear with it? Did your mother leave you anything?”
    “My mother cared little for jewels. I have a small locket that will serve admirably,” said Caroline warily.
    Stroking the jewel at her throat, Sabine smiled benevolently. “Never mind the locket, dear Caroline, you may wear my necklace with your mother’s dress. I don’t offer it lightly.