Read Online Cut to the Quick by Kate Ross - Free Book Online Page A

Guy. “There’s a reckoning in store for everyone, soon or late,” the old man said slyly. “You ought to keep that in mind, Master Guy.”
    "Why you confounded old—" Guy was beginning. But Hugh took hold of his arm and drew him away. Julian, following, looked back and saw the old man watching them keenly. His eyes remained fixed on them till the crowd closed in and cut off his view.
    “What's the point of arguing with him?*' Hugh was saying. “He's only a feeble old man, and queer in his upper story besides."
    “I don't believe it for a moment," said Guy. “The fellow's a rogue. He'd slit his own grandmother's throat for tuppence, if he thought he could do it without getting caught."
    “That's a curious sack he carries," said Julian.
    “Yes it is, isn't it?’* said Hugh. “He made it himself. People say it used to be an ordinary sack, but every time it got a hole in it he patched it with bits of material that he cadged off drapers and village women. He*s been doing that for so many years that it*s nothing but patches now. He*s very clever with his hands. He makes all the things he sells—dolls, whistles, pipes, baskets. I think he gets more money begging, though, than he does by peddling the things he makes. Sometimes he does errands and chores for people—he*s very spry, though he must be as old as Methusaleh."
    “Is Bliss his surname or his Christian name?**
    "I don*t think anyone really knows. It*s the only name we've ever known him by. He's been tramping around our part of the county for as long as I can remember. Every few months he turns up near Bellegarde, and Mother is always kind to him. I think he's really fond of her—but then, of course, Mother brings out the best in everyone. There's no love lost between him and Aunt Catherine, but you'll have gathered that.’*
    *
    At about noon, Hugh assembled the scattered members of his party, and they rode home. Guy was in uproariously high spirits. Colonel Fontclair remained quiet and withdrawn. Julian found it easy to forget he was there at all.
    Back at Bellegarde, they went to the drawing room for hock and seltzer water before luncheon. Miss Joanna and Miss Philippa made an appearance, ushered in ceremoniously by their governess, and
    watched with loving but alert eyes by their mother. They both curtsied demurely to Julian, but Philippa shot him a wary look, probably wondering if he would let on they had met already. She need not have worried; he would not dream of reminding anyone of her breach of etiquette.
    She asked him a great many questions about London. Considering that he was such a man about town, she was shocked to discover how many important places he knew nothing about. He had never been once to the pantomime at Astley’s, and he could not say for certain he had stood on the spot where Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard lost their heads. “It was easier for kings to get rid of their wives in those days,” she observed. “Thwack! thwack! with an axe, and the king could get married again.”
    “That must have been frightfully convenient.”
    “I think history’s ever so interesting. I’m writing a history, you know.”
    “No, I didn’t. A history of what?”
    “Of my family—all the battles we’ve been in and the heiresses we’ve eloped with—that kind of thing. Of course, we don’t know much about what our ancestors did before the seventeenth century. There was a terrible fire here during the civil war, and ever so many papers got burnt up.”
    “That must make it difficult to write a family history.”
    “No, not really. I just make most of it up. Nobody will know the difference.”
    Luncheon was announced, and Joanna and Philippa had to return to the schoolroom. After the meal, which was served on the terrace overlooking the formal garden, Lady Fontclair again urged Hugh to take Mr. Kestrel on a tour of the estate. “Should you like that?” Hugh asked Julian. “Or would that be too much riding for one day? The park is