Legacy Of Love [antikvár]

CHAPTER ONE 'Praise the Lord!' Charlotte said, 'George is coming tomorrow,' and she threw the letter so that it whirled about the room like a seagull and then came to rest in the log basket. Mamma affected not to notice. She was eating toast -indeed we were all three eating toast - and the morning sun was slanting into our little parlour and shining on the Bristolware teapot and the posy of primroses and the butter on a green glass plate. Charlotte leaned forward. 'Tomorrow, Mamma! He wants to take us to ride in the Park. And he is bringing a friend whom he declares you will find irreproachable.' Mamma glanced at the log basket. I knew she was in a dilemma. Like me, she could never resist Charlotte's high spirits and unlike me, she could never wholly trust her only nephew, our cousin George. I suppose she had to be careful, over-careful perhaps, bringing us up alone, a widow, in Richmond, where everybody peered and pried and respectability was nearer to godliness than cleanliness. 'I am not sure,' she said. Charlotte drummed with her fingers on the table. Mamma said, 'I do not like you to go out with George. The last time there was talk. He makes you behave so foolishly.' 'That was my fault!' I said hastily. 'My hat blew into the pond! Someone had to rescue it—' Mamma looked at me levelly. 'It was a new hat,' I said lamely. 'Charlotte was wearing a new habit, as I recall. She came home wet to the waist and draggled with weed. It was not an episode to inspire confidence in George.' 9