Silence pervaded the room, silence born of perplexity, born of unknowing, a silence born of many silent things crowded together in a small, silent space, not one of which was willing to break ranks. Grimper sat in silent confusion. Gibberish stood in silent confusion. Lavinia lounged in (stylish and contemporary) silent confusion. Lord Grope would have sat in silent confusion if he hadn’t been wriggling slightly. Better out than in, was what he would have said if it had been a loud one, but he had no need. It, too, was silent.
Even the confused silence existed in silent confusion.