She seemed, Philip was beginning to glean, as the silence churned away between them, inclined to ignore him. He could not recall if this was usual, or an effect of his altered demeanour – maybe silence had always been a more pleasant pastime than talking to her husband? Maybe other Philip had just been that deathly dull? Maybe – maybe Algernon Rowle’s reach had extended still further, and he had cursed his daughter-in-law too? (No, that could not be, because the curse was broken – and she was still ignoring him.)
Other Philip might have been unaffected by this. Philip here and now was swiftly finding he had precisely no patience for being ignored.
But he waited until their plates were gone, fingers drumming incessantly at the edge of the table, some small way to siphon out all the raw energy, the awful weight of being his body now contained.
And then she looked at him at last. His fingers stopped drumming.
“Do you ever speak?” he asked – he didn’t even know if he meant it to be mocking, or it was a genuine question. She seemed all but set in stone today, so who knew if they ever exchanged words. “I’d imagined luncheon might come with a conversation starter.”
Other Philip might have been unaffected by this. Philip here and now was swiftly finding he had precisely no patience for being ignored.
But he waited until their plates were gone, fingers drumming incessantly at the edge of the table, some small way to siphon out all the raw energy, the awful weight of being his body now contained.
And then she looked at him at last. His fingers stopped drumming.
“Do you ever speak?” he asked – he didn’t even know if he meant it to be mocking, or it was a genuine question. She seemed all but set in stone today, so who knew if they ever exchanged words. “I’d imagined luncheon might come with a conversation starter.”
