on earth happened to you, Lady Emmeline?” asked Lord Varleigh, holding open the door of the drawing room for her.
“Strangest thing,” said Lady Emmeline, plopping herself down on the sofa. “Bricks—great whoppingbricks—came falling out of the sky. I’d better send a man up to check the chimney stack. See to it, Horley. And as for you, Varleigh,” she went on without checking for breath, “I’m sorry I let off at you like that. What exactly happened? Jimmy said you just upped and offed with Annabelle.”
Lord Varleigh told her of the episode of the punch bowl, and Lady Emmeline laughed appreciatively. “What a man!” she gasped when she could. “Course, now I see you did the right thing, Varleigh, and I’m grateful to you. Jimmy’s a good lad. He’ll calm down once he’s married.” She rang for the butler and demanded that the brandy decanter be brought in, and Annabelle judged from the disapproving height of the butler’s eyebrows that this was an unusual request.
Annabelle wondered what Mrs. Quennell would say if she could see her eldest daughter, the hope of the family, sitting quaffing brandy in the company of an elderly lady covered in brick dust and an aristocratic lord whose heart was well known to belong to one of the most dashing matrons of the Town.
Horley soon came back to inform the startled party that the chimney stack had been found intact but that there were signs someone had been hiding up on the roof for, it seemed, the sole purpose of throwing bricks at Lady Emmeline should she leave her mansion.
Lord Varleigh sat very still, his glass halfway to his lips, Annabelle was remembering Mad Meg’s prophecy and feeling shaken, but Lady Emmeline only gave her infuriating giggle. “Why,” she said, “I vow it was nothing more than some Tom or Jerry up there for a lark.”
Annabelle had to admit that the Tom and Jerry sportsmen of the well-known cartoons were very close to real life. Was it strange that someone should throw bricks at an elderly dowager in a world where dropping live coals on a sleeping person and stealing a blind man’sdog were considered the veriest demonstration of Corinthian high spirits?
Lord Varleigh rose to take his leave. He bowed punctiliously over Annabelle’s hand, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Lady Emmeline had started to berate Horley over nothing in particular and everything in general, and Annabelle could not resist moving to the window to watch Lord Varleigh leave.
A smart yellow landau came to a stop in front of him. Smiling alluringly at Lord Varleigh from the landau was Lady Jane Cherle. A pale shaft of sunlight shone on the magnificent pearls at her throat. Lord Varleigh joined her in the carriage, and Lady Jane rested her head on his shoulder as they drove off.
Annabelle stood very still. Lady Jane had looked so sophisticated and beautiful. Annabelle became aware that she was engulfed in a new strong violent emotion. She wanted to see Lady Jane ruined; she wanted all London to laugh at her. Above all, Annabelle wanted Lord Varleigh to look at his mistress with contempt instead of with that heart-wrenching lazy intimacy.
I’m jealous, thought poor Annabelle. I’m jealous of Lady Jane’s beauty. What a stupid wretch I am!
She raised her hands to her suddenly hot cheeks. Was this then how her sisters felt? With a new understanding of Mary, Susan, and Lisbeth tucked away in the Hazeldean rectory, Annabelle removed to her room to write a new kind of letter to them—telling them how much she missed them and how she longed to be home again.
Chapter Five
In the following days Annabelle became more and more accustomed to the bewildering social round.
Some of it seemed delightful, like the breakfasts among the Middlesex meadows or Surrey woods, and some, downright ridiculous. How on earth could one call an event a party when there was no room to sit, no conversation, no cards and no music—only shouting and elbowing through a
“Strangest thing,” said Lady Emmeline, plopping herself down on the sofa. “Bricks—great whoppingbricks—came falling out of the sky. I’d better send a man up to check the chimney stack. See to it, Horley. And as for you, Varleigh,” she went on without checking for breath, “I’m sorry I let off at you like that. What exactly happened? Jimmy said you just upped and offed with Annabelle.”
Lord Varleigh told her of the episode of the punch bowl, and Lady Emmeline laughed appreciatively. “What a man!” she gasped when she could. “Course, now I see you did the right thing, Varleigh, and I’m grateful to you. Jimmy’s a good lad. He’ll calm down once he’s married.” She rang for the butler and demanded that the brandy decanter be brought in, and Annabelle judged from the disapproving height of the butler’s eyebrows that this was an unusual request.
Annabelle wondered what Mrs. Quennell would say if she could see her eldest daughter, the hope of the family, sitting quaffing brandy in the company of an elderly lady covered in brick dust and an aristocratic lord whose heart was well known to belong to one of the most dashing matrons of the Town.
Horley soon came back to inform the startled party that the chimney stack had been found intact but that there were signs someone had been hiding up on the roof for, it seemed, the sole purpose of throwing bricks at Lady Emmeline should she leave her mansion.
Lord Varleigh sat very still, his glass halfway to his lips, Annabelle was remembering Mad Meg’s prophecy and feeling shaken, but Lady Emmeline only gave her infuriating giggle. “Why,” she said, “I vow it was nothing more than some Tom or Jerry up there for a lark.”
Annabelle had to admit that the Tom and Jerry sportsmen of the well-known cartoons were very close to real life. Was it strange that someone should throw bricks at an elderly dowager in a world where dropping live coals on a sleeping person and stealing a blind man’sdog were considered the veriest demonstration of Corinthian high spirits?
Lord Varleigh rose to take his leave. He bowed punctiliously over Annabelle’s hand, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Lady Emmeline had started to berate Horley over nothing in particular and everything in general, and Annabelle could not resist moving to the window to watch Lord Varleigh leave.
A smart yellow landau came to a stop in front of him. Smiling alluringly at Lord Varleigh from the landau was Lady Jane Cherle. A pale shaft of sunlight shone on the magnificent pearls at her throat. Lord Varleigh joined her in the carriage, and Lady Jane rested her head on his shoulder as they drove off.
Annabelle stood very still. Lady Jane had looked so sophisticated and beautiful. Annabelle became aware that she was engulfed in a new strong violent emotion. She wanted to see Lady Jane ruined; she wanted all London to laugh at her. Above all, Annabelle wanted Lord Varleigh to look at his mistress with contempt instead of with that heart-wrenching lazy intimacy.
I’m jealous, thought poor Annabelle. I’m jealous of Lady Jane’s beauty. What a stupid wretch I am!
She raised her hands to her suddenly hot cheeks. Was this then how her sisters felt? With a new understanding of Mary, Susan, and Lisbeth tucked away in the Hazeldean rectory, Annabelle removed to her room to write a new kind of letter to them—telling them how much she missed them and how she longed to be home again.
Chapter Five
In the following days Annabelle became more and more accustomed to the bewildering social round.
Some of it seemed delightful, like the breakfasts among the Middlesex meadows or Surrey woods, and some, downright ridiculous. How on earth could one call an event a party when there was no room to sit, no conversation, no cards and no music—only shouting and elbowing through a
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