Read Online Love and Money by Phyllis Bentley - Free Book Online Page B

your daughter Isabella, madam?” enquired Thomas. “It seems to me two Isabellas in one house might cause confusion.”
    The smile which spread over Rosamond’s face was so cruel and so triumphant that Thomas knew at once confusion was her aim. She meant her Isabella to blot out all remembrance in Sir Richard’s mind of the earlier Isabella, so that any benefits which might have accrued to his elder daughter should fall to the younger, her own. It was a clever trick.
    â€œBut what an ascendancy she hath gained upon him!” thought Thomas with horror. “And where are Joanna and her child?”
7
    â€œ ’Tis a strange chance, Tom, that you seem always to come here when I have sold part of Annotsfield,” said Sir Richard.
    â€œI came to thank you for the mare,” said Thomas quietly. “You have aged a good deal, Tom, since we robbed a coach together,” said Sir Richard, giving him a shrewd look. “Yes,” said Thomas.
    He might have retorted that his uncle had aged a good deal too, for this was very evident. Sir Richard, though his person was slender and well-shaped as ever, had a haggard and restless look; his fine eyes were bloodshot, his wiry black hair showed threads of grey, a deep frown down the centre of his forehead, a twist of his full lips, marked how an impatient and angry temper grew upon him. He ate very little, drank very much; when his steward brought him papers to sign and he wished for explanations, his pointing forefingerwith the heavy emerald ring quite trembled with exasperation. He had returned very late the night before and slept very late this morning; now in a handsome gown of purple brocade edged with fur he lounged by the fire, sipping mulled wine and snapping irritably at all who came near him.
    â€œWell, Tom,” he said at length—his voice, once so genial and full of fun, had now a perpetual note of bitterness: “Since you are grown into such a solid figure of a man, with so much dignity of speech and carriage, perhaps you will do an errand for me on your way home. Eh? Wilt thou?”
    â€œI hope it will speed better than the last errand you sent me on,” said Thomas drily.
    â€œWhy, so do I indeed,” said Sir Richard. “I seem to remember that on your last errand I forestalled you.”
    â€œYes,” said Thomas.
    â€œThere is no chance of that here. This concerns Joanna.”
    Thomas set his mouth firm and waited.
    â€œShe married her cousin, William Lees, a couple of years ago,” said Sir Richard in a careless tone. “He is a weaver on a hillside ’twixt here and Annotsfield. As canting, psalm-singing, puritanic a fellow as ever entered a conventicle. Now it has come to my knowledge that this Lees means to seek his fortune in the New World.”
    â€œIn the Americas?” said Thomas, startled.
    â€œAye. In New England. There he can worship his God as William Lees and nobody else chooses.”
    â€œThere is something to be said for that,” said Thomas thoughtfully.
    â€œSpare me your sermons, Thomas. I have had enough of them from William Lees, I warrant you.” Thomas, vexed, was silent.
    â€œJoanna took the child with her when she married Lees. But she is my child, after all,” said Sir Richard, frowning. “She is now, I make it, rising seven. Shall she be packed off to die on a harsh coast? Shall I part her from her mother and keep her at Bellomont? That might be a harsh coast too. Shall I send money to ease her way?”
    â€œShould you not go to Joanna yourself?” faltered Thomas, alarmed by the magnitude of the task his uncle set him.
    â€œNay, Tom,” said Sir Richard in a tone of weary irritation: “If I go near William Lees he throws half the Bible at me. That would not trouble me, but I fear he rants and raves at Joanna when I have left. Now do you go to them, Tom, and use your eyes while you are there. Is the child well cared for? What