Read Online Blossom Time by Joan Smith - Free Book Online Page B

she said. “Let us put a brace of candles on either end of the sideboard for tonight to brighten it up.”
    By the time the ladies went abovestairs to dress for dinner, Rosalind had a nagging headache. It was not improved to see the corsage Annabelle had left for her. It was not so much a corsage as a bouquet of roses, liberally backed by asparagus fern. When she pinned it on her gown, the weight of it pulled the material out of shape. She removed half a dozen rosebuds and pinned the corsage back in place.
    Sukey came to her room before she went downstairs. “Dick says I can come down and watch the dancing for a little while,” she said.
    This was nothing new. Sukey had been in the habit of coming down to watch the dancing for a year now without offending provincial notions of propriety. But Rosalind felt that Sylvester would dislike it, and after spending an afternoon with Annabelle, she was more determined than ever to ingratiate him.
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sukey,” she said. “In London, children don’t go to grown-up parties. Lord Sylvester will think it uncivilized.”
    “I hate Lord Sylvester.”
    “You don’t hate him. You shouldn’t say such things.”
    “Yes, I do. He kicked Snow Drop. And he’s silly. Silly Sylvester. He talks too much. I want to go watch you dance. Dick said I could.”
    “Well, perhaps just one dance—from the doorway. Don’t be chasing about the room.”
    “I won’t. Thanks, Roz.” She hugged Rosalind, doing some damage to the corsage in the process. “I’ll tell Dick you said I could come.”
    “Minx! You conned me!”
    “Did not! Dick said I could go if you said it’s all right. I’ll tell him.” She danced out of the room, golden curls bouncing.
    Roz just shook her head. At least Sukey wouldn’t be a problem in London. Dick was her legal guardian, and she would remain at Apple Hill. But she’d miss Sukey. Of course, she would visit home often. Apple Hill wasn’t that far from London. And Dick would bring Sukey to visit her, too. When Sukey was older, she could make longer visits.
    A memory of Harry and Sukey, walking hand in hand down the garden path in the sunlight, flitted through her mind, bringing a sad smile to her lips. She would miss Harry, too. He would be at the Abbey for most of the year.
    She shook the wisps of regret away and went belowstairs to greet the guests. They were all old friends and neighbors. Annabelle’s parents were there, along with the vicar and his wife and couples from nearby estates. Rosalind had to endure a deal of joking compliments on her first appearance in print. Her friends treated it with embarrassment, as if she had taken a tumble from her mount, or been caught tying her garter in public.
    Sylvester, on the other hand, was shown great respect. A lord was novelty enough, but a lord who wrote poetry and edited a magazine and wore an orange jacket (Sylvester called it bronze) was unique. Lord Sylvester, bent on acquiring subscriptions for Camena, was at his most charming. There wasn’t a soul who escaped without promising a subscription, even Mrs. Hardy, the late vicar’s widow, who prided herself on never reading anything except the Bible.
    The two-foot centerpiece did not prevent Lord Sylvester from talking to the table at large. His fluting voice carried above and around the mini-garden of roses, lilies, and ferns. It would be difficult to say which of his dinner companions, Lady Amanda or Miss Fortescue, was more enthralled. They both hung on his every word.
    Annabelle was eager to learn more about Sylvester’s family. To this end, she sat with Lady Amanda while the gentlemen took their port.
    Never one to beat about the bush, she asked bluntly, “What can you tell me about Lord Sylvester’s family, Lady Amanda?”
    “I have known the Dunstons forever. Old Dunston, the marquess, owns half of East Sussex. Of course, his elder son, Moffat, will inherit the title and Astonby Hall, but I should think