But there was even more that I had to be grateful for: Mia hadn’t walked in her sleep once since that night. And without asking too many questions, she’d promised to watch her personal possessions like a hawk, particularly in school. I was also grateful that I could talk to Henry again without bursting into tears or shouting at him—in fact, we were getting on quite well. Maybe because we deliberately avoided all difficult subjects when we met.
Oh, and somehow I was glad that Charles and Lottie were on the dance floor together, looking amorously into each other’s eyes. They made a lovely couple. Well, Lottie was lovely, Charles was … just Charles. The main thing was that they were happy. I wasn’t quite sure that I could stand much more love in the household right now, because at the moment Ernest and Mom were going in for so much deep, soppy happiness that Mia was toying with the thought of moving out early. Today they’d offered to look after Buttercup and Spot in Lottie’s rooms up on the third floor, where they were probably making out on the sofa while Buttercup and Spot put their paws over their eyes.
The Boker still hadn’t recovered from her elder son’s engagement and probably never would. At every possible opportunity, she pointed out what a drop in social status his second marriage would mean for Ernest—after all, his first wife had been 201st in line for the British throne. But of course that wasn’t the reason why she’d decided to stay home today. “This is a party for the young, and I don’t want to be in the way,” she had said modestly when Florence invited her, but I was sure the real reason she wasn’t here was that blue didn’t suit her. If family members had been told to come in beige, she’d have been the first to show up.
“Here comes Henry!” Persephone dug her elbow into my ribs. “Amazing—he looks good even in a lumberjack shirt.”
“It’s not a lumberjack shirt; it’s just a check pattern,” Henry put her right. “I don’t like it. But it was the only red thing in my wardrobe except for a Norwegian sweater with reindeer knitted into it. Anyway, I could never outdo your dress, Persephone.”
“I know! Looks super, don’t you think? And see how the skirt swings out!” She turned on her own axis and blew us a kiss. “I’m going to look for Gabriel!”
Henry took her place beside me leaning on the bookshelves and watched her go. “Amazing similarity to a coconut meringue pie. A coconut meringue pie that’s had a bit of an accident.”
“So much for the quality of your compliments.” I sighed.
“I suppose that means if I said you’re looking wonderful this evening, you wouldn’t believe me?” He smiled at me, and in my present good mood, I smiled back. Over the last few days, he’d seemed much more relaxed than for weeks before, and as if he’d been sleeping better.
People were crowding into the living room now. Someone had opened the door to the terrace, and pleasantly cold night air came in from outside. The band went over to “Narcotic” by Liquido, and I took Henry’s arm and drew him out into the corridor, where we sat down on the stairs, a vantage point from which we could watch the party.
“You look somehow … happy,” I said after a while. And terribly attractive. (Of course I didn’t say that, I just thought it.)
“I am.” His eyes lingered very briefly on my mouth. “Well, not necessarily happy. But anyway, I have one thing less to worry about.”
I cautiously felt the snuffbox in my pocket. “Really?”
He nodded. “At the moment things at home…” He stopped. “Well, I told you I’d been having trouble with my father. To put it mildly. About the trust fund.”
Yes. He’d mentioned it.
“But all that has come to nothing.”
“What, the trust fund?” I asked, although of course I knew better.
“No, the trouble. My father has given up that stupid idea of investing it. At least for now.”
“That sounds very sensible,” I said, avoiding a green elbow going upstairs past us on the way to the bathroom. A few guests were still arriving, and I wondered how many Florence had invited. And how many people could do charitable work in a single soup kitchen.
“To be honest, I never expected my father to think better of it.” Henry leaned back. “He wouldn’t listen to anything I said.”
“Maybe he just needed someone to appeal to his conscience,” I said, and I handed Henry the snuffbox. “Here. I think this belongs to your family.”
I’d known Henry for some time now, but I’d never seen him so taken aback. I’d never known him to stammer either.
“Is … is … is … th-that by any chance…?”
“The snuffbox that Milo borrowed from your father, yes,” I said, enjoying the look on his face. “I’d have kept it, only I don’t take snuff.”
Henry’s mouth was still slightly open. He looked from the snuffbox to me and back again. “You were the … How did you…?”