London Calling Read Online Free PDF Page B

But as she made her way back towards the place where she had left her aunt and their carriage, she was barely conscious of her surroundings. One gloriously drunk old woman bellowing the words to ‘Robin Adair’ actually reeled into her as she passed by the public house. But Susanna barely felt it. It was, she thought, rather as though she were encased in a muffling gray cloud that prevented her feeling anything at all.
    Not an entirely unpleasant state of being. Except that she had already a queasiness in the pit of her stomach when she considered how she might feel once the numbness had passed.
    “Susanna? Susanna?”
    She realized abruptly that she had reached the carriage. And that her Aunt Ruth was leaning out of the window and saying her name.
    “I am sorry, Aunt Ruth‌—‌what did you say? I’m afraid I was not attending.”
    “That,” her aunt said dryly, “is moderately obvious. You have been standing there on the pavement for the past five minutes, staring at nothing at all.” Her aunt’s voice changed, growing kind and concerned. “My dear, are you all right? Did you find—” Ruth stopped. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
    The coachman had jumped down from the driver’s seat and held out a hand to Susanna. She took it mechanically, climbing into the carriage and settling back into the seat opposite Aunt Ruth. Still feeling rather as though she were a child’s clockwork toy that had nearly run down.
    “I‌—‌yes. I suppose I did.” Susanna felt her lips twist slightly. “I found . . . ‌what I was looking for.”
    Ruth gave her another penetrating glance. But she asked nothing else. For which, Susanna thought, she would have been eternally grateful‌—‌if she had been able to feel anything at all just then.
    The carriage wheels lurched into motion, and she stared out the window, watching the street as they passed by. A few wisps of fog had begun to roll in, and figures came into view and disappeared again as though in some sort of dream. A flower-seller peddling wilted nosegays. Two children asleep in a doorway, their arms wrapped around each other.
    Susanna realized with another jolt that her aunt was speaking again. “I’m sorry, Aunt Ruth.” She made herself look away from the window, back at her aunt. “What was that you just asked?”
    “I asked whether you wouldn’t rather go home than go on to the assembly at Almack’s. After an experience like this one . . .” Ruth’s voice trailed off.
    Almack’s. The original plan of going to tonight’s assembly seemed so far off as to belong to another life. Still, Susanna thought of returning to the rented house. Undressing in her pretty, unfamiliar room, lying down on the unfamiliar bed‌—‌staring at the ceiling and attempting not to let every word James had spoken tonight replay over and over again in her head.
    “No, I would rather go,” Susanna said. “That is, if you are still feeling up to attending.”
    Ruth was still watching her closely. But she nodded and said, “Of course, my dear. And besides”‌—‌a faint smile touched the corners of Ruth’s mouth‌—‌“Lady Jersey would never forgive me if I failed to attend, after I made such a point of getting her to invite us tonight.”
    Ruth leaned forward, rapping on the carriage window. “Drive on to King’s Street, if you please.”

Chapter 4
    The mood at Almack’s, Susanna decided after they had been there an hour, was one of sedate boredom.
    At first she thought it was merely her own preoccupation‌—‌in her present state she felt fully capable of finding a maharaja’s palace excruciatingly dull.
    But the Almack’s assembly rooms were hot and crowded and had little to recommend them. The main ballroom was large and bare, the ceiling supported by gilt columns and the walls adorned with mirrors. Girls in pale, floating dresses, their flowers slightly wilting in the heat, sipped delicately at cups of lemonade and exchanged