Read Online A Child of Jarrow by Janet MacLeod Trotter - Free Book Online

farewells and call for their carriages, after which their host retired to bed.
    Out in the twilight, the air was still warm and heavy with the scent of roses and mown grass. Alexander and his hostess strolled to the end of the terrace and took the steps down towards the walled garden and the path that meandered all the way to the boating lake. Emma kept him entertained with witty descriptions of her French travels and gossip about her fellow travellers.
    â€˜And what’s been happening here in my absence?’ she asked.
    â€˜I haven’t been to Ravensworth since the turn of the year. Father has kept me busy in the south of the county. Now I’m to journey on to Sweden. So I’m quite useless in providing you with the local gossip, I’m afraid.’
    â€˜Poor boy. I think your father is trying to keep you away from us.’
    Alexander grunted. ‘He’d certainly rather see me chained to his office desk.’
    They stopped by the lake and gazed into its purple depths.
    â€˜And what is it about Ravensworth that so concerns Mr Davies?’ she asked with a note of laughter in her voice.
    He looked down at her delicate face, the hair just beginning to grey at the temples, the lines around her blue eyes softened by shadow. If she had been twenty years younger...
    â€˜Too many temptations,’ he answered in a low voice. ‘He’s jealous that I prefer to be here than anywhere else.’
    She reached out and touched his face with a gloved hand. Such a strong face, without an old man’s soft jowls, she thought. And those restless tawny eyes. She suspected a deep passion lay behind his guarded look. He had been a tempestuous small boy, by all accounts.
    Alexander slipped his hand up to hers. He gripped it in his warm hold and kissed her scented gloved palm.
    Quickly Emma withdrew her hand. What was she thinking of? She must not be tempted.
    â€˜You are a sweet boy,’ she laughed, and drew away. ‘But it just wouldn’t do, would it?’
    Alexander flushed. ‘I didn’t mean to—’
    â€˜No, no,’ she hushed him, ‘we’ll blame it on too much wine at dinner and the smell of a summer’s night.’ She linked arms and led him back up the path. ‘Did you know that we’re growing oranges in the hothouses now? And the peaches this year are delicious -just like French ones. Come, let me show you.’
    Alexander cursed himself for his impetuous kiss. The last thing he wanted was to endanger his position with his relations. But she seemed to think it of no account, as if it were the act of some foolish youth. This rankled too.
    They mounted the steps once more and rounded the walled garden to the sheltered glasshouses. It was almost dark and Alexander held her arm to stop her tripping on the uneven flagstones. As they approached, a light became visible from inside. A youth was holding aloft a lantern while a thick-set gardener worked a pulley to close the high windows. They were illuminated behind the glass like players on a stage.
    Then a young woman carrying a small boy in her arms stepped into the light. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the glasshouse and her mass of brown hair was escaping its pins. She was smiling at the others, saying something then laughing, kissing the top of the sleepy boy’s head. It was a charming domestic picture, Alexander thought with a stab of envy. Once again he felt the outsider, put in his place by the unreachable woman at his side and just as much excluded from the simple family scene in front. He belonged to neither, had never been part of such a family.
    â€˜We’ve come just in time,’ Lady Ravensworth said, quite unaware of his resentment, steering him forward through the open door.
    A blanket of warm air hit them and a delicious heady scent of fruit: spicy orange mingled with the soft fragrance of peach. The gardener turned to them and pulled off his cap, flustered by their