“Money,” Simon shot back with a resentful tone, “can create the appearance of affection.”
At that statement, Arabella noticed that Beatrice’s face fell momentarily into rueful contemplation. But then she brightened—albeit somewhat artificially—and said, “I am sure your nanny’s tender feelings were entirely genuine. But what of the male of the species? I have heard that Martian warriors are fierce and savage.”
“Though war is a frequent occurrence between the Martian nations,” Arabella replied, “there has been peace between Martians and English for many years. In any case,” she continued with a small smile, “among the Martians, it is the females who are the warriors.” Simon and Beatrice both expressed shock and disbelief at this. “I swear to you that what I say is true,” Arabella reassured them. “The Martian female is larger and more powerful than the male, and—though the English often refuse to believe this—Martians consider the female to be more suitable by temperament to the warrior’s life. Indeed, my own itkhalya is well known among her people as a strategist.” To herself, Arabella reflected that this was one of the ways in which Martian culture was superior to that of the English. Sometimes she even thought that, if she had no alternative but to be born female, she would rather have been a Martian.
At that moment Sophie, in the next room, began to wail and fuss, and Beatrice excused herself to tend to her. Arabella, seeing an opportunity to converse with her in private, excused herself as well.
Once Sophie’s immediate needs had been tended to and Beatrice had begun to rock and comfort the child, Arabella seated herself on the sofa next to her. “Forgive me if I am being impertinent,” she said, “but I cannot help but notice that Mr. Ashby seems … rather vexed. I hope that my presence here is not a burden to you.”
Beatrice gazed contemplatively out the window for a time before replying. “I am afraid that your father’s recent passing has revived old grudges about the estate.”
“How so?”
“I gather he resents that his father did not receive a share of the inheritance when your grandfather died.”
Arabella placed a hand upon her bosom. “Let me assure you that it was not my father’s choice, nor my grandfather’s, to do so. They both loved my late uncle, Mr. Ashby’s father, dearly, but the estate is entailed.… It must pass entirely and without division to the eldest son.”
“And thus it passes now to your brother Michael, and again we are left with nothing.” Mrs. Ashby’s voice was more resigned than aggrieved.
“If there were any thing I could do…”
“It is the way of the world, I suppose.” Beatrice sighed. “I am sure that he will be much more himself in the morning. We will pick strawberries together, and all will be well.”
By now Sophie had drifted off, burbling contentedly in her sleep, and Beatrice laid her down in her crib. She and Arabella returned to the dining table, where Simon sat staring off into space and drumming his fingers on the table’s edge.
The two women seated themselves, with apologies for the interruption, and without a word Simon began to carve the roast. Arabella received her portion with thanks, but after she had eaten the first few bites she was forced to deposit a large lump of gristle on the side of her plate.
Though she had done it as discreetly as possible, the act did not escape Simon’s notice. “I must beg your pardon for the quality of the roast,” he said, quite testily. “I know that your side of the family is accustomed to finer fare, but this is the best possible under the circumstances.”
Beatrice gave him a withering look, then with a rather forced smile turned to Arabella. “Tell us about your voyage from Mars,” she said. “How did you survive the absence of gravity and atmosphere?”
Arabella sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. The scientific ignorance of English women, and most of the men as well, was appalling, but as her mother had repeatedly cautioned her, expressing her true opinion of her cousin’s lack of knowledge would be a gross breach of etiquette. “It is merely a common misperception,” she explained, “that there is no gravity between planets. The sun’s gravity is quite substantial, even as far out as Mars. But the ship is in orbit, you see, which means that she is circling the sun at exactly the same rate she falls toward it, so that those aboard the ship do not feel any gravitational attraction. We call this a state of free descent.” Beatrice’s vacant smile told Arabella that her words were falling on stony ground, and she resolved to simplify her account still further. “And as to the atmosphere, although the interplanetary atmosphere is … of different composition from that of Earth or Mars, I assure you it is entirely breathable and quite healthful.”