Her only answer was a stifled snuffle and ‘Didn’t I tell you to go away?’ from the armchair placed in one corner for swooning ladies who needed to take the weight off their feet. Lily approached, watchful and prepared for action, though the pitiful bundle curled in the depths of the chair seemed to offer no challenge.
‘Hello. My name’s Lily Wentworth. I hear you could do with some help with your dress.’ As there was no reply she added: ‘I was just talking to your husband upstairs. He’s wondering when you’re going to re-join him at the party.’
A howl of anger greeted this offering. A flood of Russian — oaths by the sound of it — and then: ‘Never! Swine! Evil, loathsome man! I’m sitting here trying to get up the courage to find a back way out of this place. I shall walk away and never see him again.’
‘Seems a bit drastic. Do you have somewhere to flee to? Always a good idea to have an exit strategy.’ Lily’s tone was exaggeratedly light.
‘I’d rather sleep on the streets than next to him. I’d rather sleep in the zoo! In the reptile cage!’ The vehemence of the replies was not abating. This display of overheating rage was the last thing Lily wanted to encounter. Any woman with the bad luck to be married to Gustavus deserved her sympathy, but something had to be done to deflate this swelling emotion.
‘May I ask you to stand up, madam, put your hands on your head and turn round slowly?’ Lily asked abruptly in a police voice.
‘I beg your pardon? Why on earth should I? Who are you to ask such a thing?’ The girl was sufficiently startled to raise her head and stop sobbing.
‘I’ll answer both questions when you’ve done as I ask.’
‘Oh, very well! Strange English ways! One is obliged to humour one’s hosts, I suppose.’ Zinia sighed, stood up, lifted her arms and turned around.
‘A beauty,’ Sandilands had said. It was difficult to see loveliness in a face that was wrecked by tears that had channelled through her powder and smudged her lip rouge. Mascara was no more than large black smudges under her eyes. And yet the features had the strange attractiveness of a pug dog’s squashed face. The eyes were large, dark and lustrous, the nose straight and short above an upper lip that was slightly too long for perfection. The mouth below was well shaped, but over generous in Lily’s estimation. Lily was reassured to see that the girl was shorter than herself and very slightly built. And it was clear that, in her clinging silk, Zinia was not concealing a weapon.