Since those very questions had passed through her mind more than once (though not, perhaps, phrased in quite that way), Marina was held dumb, hypnotized by the questions, and by Arachne’s eyes. She shook her head slightly.
“Now, I do not know, not for certain,” Arachne said. “I know only what my inquiries have brought to light. Alanna is—was—sensitive. Overly so, perhaps. Certainly she was of a very nervous disposition, and your birth was hard on her—very, very hard. Something happened then that terrified her; I have been unable to discover what it was, but whatever the cause was, you, a mere infant at the time, were at the heart of it, and she sent you away, as far away from her as she could manage among her acquaintances.” Arachne shrugged, and the silk of her skirt rustled as she shifted in her chair. “I know that Hugh considered your artists to be friends, which was… something of a mistake, a social faux pas, in my opinion. I know that they were visiting at the time of Alanna’s fright, and I suspect that when the emergency occurred, your father would have given you into the keeping of whomsoever volunteered to take you. I do know you were literally shoved into Margherita Tarrant’s arms and sent away with whatever could be bundled up quickly into the cart that brought them here. I know this, because I have found witnesses among the servants who saw it happen. Presumably they were the only ones among the group that was visiting that were willing to accept the responsibility of an infant. For whatever reason, Alanna Roeswood could not bear the sight of you, and my brother chose his wife’s welfare over that of his daughter.”
The words struck her as hard as a rain of blows from a cane Marina could only sit with her hands limply in Arachne’s. Her head spun; this made altogether too much sense.
But what about those letters? All those letters?
“He should have found someone to care for you more in keeping with your rank and station, but he didn’t.” Arachne’s lips thinned. “I am not one to speak ill of the dead, but my brother, I fear, must have been weak of will. He allowed our parents to override him in the matter of myself, and he allowed his wife to dictate to him in the matter of you. I am sorry, my dear, but he could not have chosen a worse set of people to care for you. Oh, I know that they were fond of you—I know they did their best for you! But they have allowed you to run wild, they never sent you to a proper finishing school nor got you a governess to teach you, and they exposed you to all manner of improper persons and impossible manners. In the matter of your wardrobe alone—” Her lips thinned even more with disapproval “—well, the less said about that, the better. Except that those so-called ‘artistic reform tea-gowns’ might have been the mode—in a certain circle—years ago, but they most certainly are not now, and the mere wearing of them would expose you to the utmost ridicule.”
Marina dropped her eyes, her ears burning with embarrassment, torn between an instinctive urge to protest and the fear that her aunt was right. No matter what Elizabeth had said.
“Fortunately, by the standards of society, you are still a child, and your reputation has not suffered the irredeemable damage it would have if you were only a year older,” Arachne continued. “I hope that my brother had the sense to realize that; I more than hope, I know—indeed, some of the things among his papers informed me that he had laid plans to bring you home before your eighteenth birthday. And certainly, by now even poor Alanna must have realized her fears, her terrors, could not be attached to a grown young woman. So, in order to carry out his wishes, I merely brought them forward—realizing as I did, once his men of business told me where you had been deposited, that you could not be left there a moment longer without terrible damage to your reputation.” Once again, she squeezed Marina’s hands as Marina stared down at them. Marina raised her eyes to meet her aunt’s again, and Arachne smiled as she had before. “I knew you would, you must object to this removal. I knew that the Tarrants would object as well—they could not be expected to see why they were so unsuitable, poor things. That was why I proceeded as I did, why I moved to obtain legal custody of your person, why I sent people to remove you so quickly, and why I did it in the rather—authoritarian—manner that I chose.”
Authoritarian? That’s a mild term for kidnapping and drugging!
“But I did it for your own good, dear,” Arachne concluded, as Marina had known she would. “I have been in society; you have not. Your former guardians may believe that it is possible to live above or beyond the social laws, but it is not. Not unless you wish to live a lonely and miserable existence, estranged from your peers, shunned by your equals, despised by your superiors. If you don’t object to living here as a hermit on this estate for the rest of your life, well and good—but I should think that you would far rather find doors opening to you in welcome.”
She couldn’t help it; for years now, Marina had read the social pages in the newspaper, drunk in the descriptions of the glittering parties, the events, the receptions. She had pored over the sketches and photographs, and wished that her sketch or photograph could be among them… not that she aspired to the status of a PB, but the exciting round of the social scene beckoned so beguilingly.
Arachne chuckled, as if she could read Marina’s thoughts. “Well, niece, your parents might have shunned my company, but I can assure you that no one else looks askance at the source of my wealth. The day, thank heaven, is long past when those who were born to rank and wealth can sneer down their noses at those who merely acquired it through hard work. And let me put one more possible fear of yours to rest—I have no interest in your inheritance. I am probably worth twice what you are; I own three pottery manufactories outright, and am partner in a fourth. I am also accepted in the best company; and I have every intention of seeing that you are accepted there as well. But first—” she sighed theatrically “—it is just as well that you are in mourning and cannot be expected to appear in public for the next year, because you will need to work very hard before you are ready for that society.”
Oh, really? Anger flared at her aunt’s assumptions, and Marina felt her chin jut out stubbornly. “I know Latin, Greek, French, Italian, and German, ma’am,” she objected, anger making her speak in a formal and stilted manner. “I am familiar with a wide spectrum of literature and enough science to satisfy a university examiner. I have read every London paper published for the past five years. I am hardly ignorant.”
“Do you know how to properly address a duke, a countess, or a bishop?” Arachne countered, sharpness coming into her voice for the first time. “I am painfully aware that you do not know how to dress—do you know what to do at a formal dinner? Could you eat ortolan or escargot or lobster without disgracing yourself? Can you compose the appropriate invitations for a garden party, a masquerade ball, and a formal dinner? Do you know when it is appropriate and when it is inappropriate to discuss politics? Could you sit at dinner with the Archbishop of Canterbury on your left and a professional beauty on your right, and entertain both with your conversation?” As Marina sat there, eyes wide, Arachne continued ruthlessly. “How much is it appropriate to leave as a tip for the servants of your host at a shooting party? Do you know how to decide which invitations to decline and which to accept, and how to do both in such a way that your would-be hostess is neither left feeling that you are fawning on her nor insulting her? You may have a great deal of knowledge, child, but you have no learning’ And you have a great deal to learn.”