Read Online Pasha by Julian Stockwin - Free Book Online Page A

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    â€œNicholas, it is what I would wish. My father is old and frail and could not possibly endure the strain. And my mother would …”
    Unspoken was the fact that the Kydds would be wildly out of their depth in such grandeur and would know it. Cecilia, after years as lady companion to a marchioness, was not unfamiliar with society—but there could be no question of exposing her family to ridicule.
    â€œIn Guildford, perhaps?” she asked doubtfully.
    â€œSo be it, my love.”
    â€œI’ve asked that the banns be read beginning this Sunday.” She smiled impishly. “We shall be wed in a month. I hope you don’t think me forward, my lord.”
    Renzi stopped. “Ah …”
    Her smile faded. “Nicholas, what is it?”
    â€œPeers of the realm have certain privileges, my dear.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œI rather thought for us—a special licence from Doctors Commons attested by the Archbishop of Canterbury. It will serve to have us married within this very week, setting aside the need for banns and similar.”
    â€œNicholas! You darling man! Yes—yes!”
    â€œAs I trust you will forgive my precipitate behaviour, occasioned, may I point out, only by my earnest wish to secure the presence, before he returns to the sea, of my particular friend at our happy event.”
    She melted, and clung to him while their passions surged. Then they turned and walked slowly back.
    â€œMother?” Renzi said softly.
    She was waiting on the steps for them, but she turned first to the woman on his arm. “Cecilia, my dear. Did you enjoy your walk?”
    â€œI did, my lady, very much.”
    â€œYou will have some notion now of the duties that await my son as lord of Eskdale Hall.”
    â€œYes, indeed—and we saw only a part of the whole.”
    It seemed to please, and the countess went on, “You have yet to make a tour of the house. At above a hundred rooms it is no easy task in the managing. And soon you will be chatelaine, my dear. Do you feel equal to it?”
    Renzi intervened smoothly: “Miss Kydd has for some years been in an intimate situation in the household of the Marquess of Bloomsbury, Mama, and is no stranger to society. I have every expectation that she will be an ornament to our establishment.”
    â€œOf course. Then shall we pass on to the wedding plans? Inview of the … irregular nature of proceedings it were best, I feel, if the customary great ceremonials be exchanged for something a little less … formal, so to speak.”
    â€œQuite so, Mama.”
    â€œThe gutter press will have their sport on this occasion, no doubt,” she said acidly. “There’s no reason to flaunt it in their faces.”
    â€œAs we both agree, Mama. We rather thought in Guildford, the Kydd family town?”
    It was settled, and with a pronouncement that the evening would see a grand banquet in their honour, she left them.
    They wandered on through fine rooms and cloisters, banqueting halls and drawing rooms until they came to the library.
    â€œAnd here is where I will have my being, dear Cecilia.”
    He looked fondly at the endless shelves, the familiar volumes showing no sign of use since his departure those long years before. And there was the broad desk that dated from the first George with its leather inlay and ink-stains, positioned to take the light from the tall French windows that looked out over the formal gardens.
    The peace and tranquillity, the fragrance of books and learning, the centuries of time that the room had seen, all reached out to him. Here it would be that his ethnical studies would attain their fruition, a labour of pride and diligence.
    He sighed in anticipation. But before he could resume it would be necessary to take up the reins as lord and master of Eskdale. And for that—
    A slight cough sounded from the door. He looked up: it was Jago, the dark-jowled