Read Online Lakeland Lily by Freda Lightfoot - Free Book Online Page A

conscience over the plan rapidly forming in her head even as she smiled and cast teasing glances to enrapture him. She could change her mind, even now. Did she have the courage to sit in Margot Clermont-Read’s parlour at Barwick House and tell her exactly what she thought of her? Did she want to remember the loss of her beloved?
    Lily and Dick should have been married by now, living happily together as man and wife, he the best carpenter in the district and she a dressmaker, well on the way to making their fortune. Lily’s heart swelled with remembered pain. Making an extra effort, she put the memories aside, brightened her smile and politely accepted Bertie’s invitation.
     
    If Lily sensed the freezing reception emanating from Selene, she made no comment upon it.
    Bertie told Lily that tea was always taken in the little parlour. But as the maid showed them in, ‘little’ was not the word which sprang immediately to mind. Hung with dark landscape paintings, each one the size of a small door, on its pale blue walls, the entire room seemed filled with sofas, chairs and assorted tables, not to mention people. Even Lily in her ignorance could recognise the carpet as oriental, and so thick she dared hardly walk upon it.
    ‘You could fit the whole of our li’le cottage in here,’ she whispered in Bertie’s ear, making him laugh. She struggled to curb a sudden desire to tidy her hair, smooth her skirts then turn tail and run.
    Selene swept past, chin high, and headed straight for two inoffensive-looking young men who were balancing cups, saucers and plates as they perched on spindly chairs. At sight of her, they almost overturned the chairs in their haste to be the chosen one, each vying to pour her a cup of tea and fetch an almond slice. Lily felt a bubble of laughter surge recklessly within her as Selene sank upon a chair with several tortured sighs and a hand pressed dramatically to her brow. The young woman clearly enjoyed melodrama.
    ‘Bertie darling, you’re late. Come here and kiss me at once, you naughty boy.’ A woman of statuesque proportions seated in a crimson brocade chair by the marble fireplace lifted her hand in regal fashion. Her round face andrather sandy, fashionably frizzed hair marked her as Bertie’s mother, even if he hadn’t surprised Lily by doing exactly as he was bid. ‘Sorry, old thing. Went to see the Water Hen. Gripping stuff.’
    Margot was not, for once, listening to her son’s excuses. Her small dark eyes had fastened upon Lily, lips already thinning with disapproval that such a dishevelled creature should be allowed to enter her drawing room uninvited. ‘And who do we have here?’
    ‘This is Lily Thorpe. She was given an unexpected half-day holiday because of the Water Hen and adores cream cakes, so I invited her for tea, as a treat.’
    The silence which followed this artless introduction was awesome. Anyone with less stamina or reason to stay put than Lily might very well have chosen this moment to offer their excuses and depart. She stepped forward, tilting her chin, and smiled at Margot.
    ‘Surely you remember me, Mrs Clermont-Read? We have met once before. Though why should you remember? I’m sure it seemed of no consequence to you at the time.’
    Had anyone dared to gasp, they would certainly have done so at such audacity. Selene fanned herself furiously. Margot silently seethed. Bertie, oblivious to the freezing atmosphere, pushed forward a chair.
    ‘Make yourself comfortable, Lily, and I’ll fetch you the biggest cream cake I can find. Milk or lemon in your tea?’
    If she had derived any pleasure from this encounter, her enjoyment was soon about to fade. Margot, after all, was in her own drawing room. This was her home, these were her friends, and she was certainly not going to be put down by some young upstart from The Cobbles.
    She made no attempt to introduce the girl to her other guests: Mrs and Miss Ferguson-Walsh, Felicia Morton-Cryer and her devoted mama,