The Fasquelle's Ballroom, Uptown
She had gasped at the sight of it, and nearly shouted for Horace - absurdly - although she had thought better of that, and started to go to fetch the footman. But Phileander had started to reach for it, just as the thing had let loose a length of a gleaming line like silk, and Amaryllis had found that she could balance different fears quite effectively.
She had scooped him up - she had not quite wanted to shout and disturb the house, and Phileander had started to struggle and whine, stabbing a chubby little finger at the spider. So - her arms around him, they had sat together and watched, just as Amaryllis sorted out what to do.
To her surprise it had been - almost lovely. She had started out thinking of how difficult it was to keep the house clear of cobwebs, staring ruefully at the little interloper, but something about Phileander’s quiet absorption had seeped into her too. They were oddly creepy little things, with those gleaming bodies and so many legs, and she knew some were said to have tiny, poisonous fangs; she would not have let Phileander touch it. But she had watched, too, as it climbed back up the gleaming length it had let down, gathered it up, and she had taught Phileander the word spiderweb.
All the same, it had been a relief that the maid had dusted it away, later, when Phileander was not there to see.
Amaryllis smiled, too, soft and polite, at Diana’s warning, and flickered into a brief bright grin at the thought of an enormous Mugrobi beetle in the cellar. “Giant beetles! I’ve never heard of it, I’m sure.” She imagined something the size of an osta; she tried to picture some of the small, elegant Mugrobi she had met in Vienda walking about with a beetle on a leash, and found her imagination quite failed her.
Amaryllis‘s smile glowed. “If you’ve time - and the girls can make it - Chrysanthe works, often, on nines, but she is generally free on tens. I’ve some engagements, but not too many in the afternoons.” She did not say they had declined rather more parties than usual, of late, those which had required answers in particular but also others which had, at the time, seemed less pressing. She had a feeling, somehow, that it did not need to be said.
“I have never asked Chrysanthe what sort of insects she saw in Gior,” Amaryllis said, thoughtfully, as if the idea had ever once occurred to her before now, and as if she were not once more on the verge of giggling. It was an unexpected delight. “None the less, I’m sure she should be glad to discuss them with Eleanor.”
She found that she could picture; Chrysanthe, sitting very straight with a cup of tea, neutrally describing some sort of bizarre glowing worms from the caverns of Gior, and Eleanor - she could fill in a somewhat more grown, perhaps less spotty girl with lovely curly hair, bright eyed, listening eagerly and putting in notes about habitats or subspecies.
Your friends, Diana had suggested, and Amaryllis was still thinking rapidly. There were the wives of the men Horace did business with - most of them a bit older than her, and many of them a bit older than Diana. They were the ladies who had been split, that afternoon a few years ago when Mrs. Pike had not been able to come and the small tea Amaryllis had hosted had involved Phileander crawling about on the floor: Mrs. Jothering had been scandalized, and all the rest had been delighted, and the conversation had devolved into a great deal of discussion of the intricacies of children and grandchildren and the sort of fondly remembered private moments one never heard discussed. Mrs. Jothering had not even snubbed Amaryllis an invitation to her next luncheon, although she had had something of a pinched face at their greetings.
She tried, and failed, to think of Mrs. Silverstone sitting with her lovely bright wig beneath the painting of Anatole’s mother, or Diana smiling at her - let alone, Amaryllis thought wryly, bug talk.
But - Amaryllis smiled. “There are some school friends I should like very much to see,” she suggested, lightly. “I think they would be good company for your girls, as well, and I’m sure Chrysanthe would be glad of the chance. You know Francoise Rochambeaux, I think?” She knew Francoise was still not accepting many invitations, of course; but she understood that her health was well enough to permit a tea, and she rather thought Francoise would jump at the chance to attend something a bit quiet. Horace and Aurelien had never quite had anything to discuss, but as far as Amaryllis knew neither had ever objected to the friendship.
“I’m not sure whether you would have meet Niccolette Ibutatu,” Amaryllis continued. “Both of them were a year behind me at Brunnhold. She has taken rather an unusual path since graduation, I think, and recently lost her husband, I’m sorry to say. But I think she would be a congenial addition as well.”