Ashworth Hall - Anne Perry [21]
A shadow passed over Piers’s face. He looked very young, and suddenly also vulnerable.
“She has no parents, Papa. They died of fever when she was a child. She was brought up by grandparents, who are unfortunately also dead now.”
“Oh dear!” Eudora looked startled.
“As you say, unfortunate,” Ainsley agreed. “But obviously it cannot be helped. And there is plenty of time. You cannot consider marriage until you are qualified and have purchased a practice, and possibly not for the first year or two after that.”
Piers’s expression tightened and some of the light faded from his eyes. The thought of waiting so long would be hard for any young man in love, as he so clearly was.
“When may we meet her?” Eudora asked. “Is she in Cambridge? I imagine she is.”
“No … no, she is in London,” Piers said quickly. “But she is coming here tomorrow.” He swung around to Emily. “If I have your permission, Mrs. Radley? I realize it is a fearful impertinence, but I do so badly want her to meet my family, and for them to meet her, and this is the only chance for at least another two months.”
Emily swallowed. “Of course.” Again she made the only answer she could. “She will be most welcome. Congratulations, Mr. Greville.”
He beamed. “Thank you, Mrs. Radley. You are terribly generous.”
After the meal was over the men adjourned to begin their discussions, and Emily went to inform the housekeeper that there was an extra guest and require that a room be prepared for him, and one for the following day for the young lady who was expected.
After that she joined the other women in a gentle stroll around the gardens in the late sunshine, showing them the maze, the orangery, the long lawn with its herbaceous borders, now full of chrysanthemums and late asters, the water lily pools and the woodland walk with its ferns, wild white foxgloves, and then back through the beech walk and ending in the rose garden.
Afternoon tea in the green room offered the first opportunity, and necessity, for conversation. Until then, comments on flowers and trees had been sufficient. Emily had walked with Eudora and Iona, Charlotte had followed a step or two behind with Kezia. It had all seemed very agreeable.
Now, in the green room, with its French windows onto the terrace and the grass sloping down to the rose garden, the fire crackling brightly and the silver tray of hot crumpets and butter, delicate sandwiches and small iced cakes, it was impossible to avoid speaking to each other.
The maid had passed the teacups and withdrawn. After the exercise Charlotte was hungry and found the crumpets delicious. It was not easy to eat them in a ladylike fashion and not drip hot butter onto the bosom of her dress. It required a degree of concentration.
Kezia looked at Emily gravely. “Mrs. Radley, do you think it will be possible to purchase a newspaper in the village tomorrow—if I sent one of the footmen for it, if you wouldn’t mind?”
“The Times is delivered here every day,” Emily replied. “I expect we have already arranged to have several copies sent, but I will make sure that it is so.”
Kezia smiled dazzlingly. “Thank you very much. That is most generous.”
“I don’t imagine there will be much news of Ireland in it,” Iona observed, her eyes wide. “It will be all English affairs, English social news and theaters and financial dealings, and of course a certain amount of what is happening abroad.”
Kezia returned her stare. “The English Parliament governs Ireland, or had you forgotten that?”
“I remember that even in my sleep,” Iona replied. “Every true Irish man or woman does. It’s only you who want to remain in the English pockets who let yourselves forget what it means, the shame and the grief of it, the hunger, the poverty and the injustice.”
“Yes, the whole of England is riding on Ireland’s back, I know that,” Kezia said sarcastically. “So small as Catholic Ireland is, it’s no wonder it finds the weight too much! You must work like galley slaves to