Read Online Penmarric by Susan Howatch - Free Book Online Page B

realized that not only was she uninterested in my sympathy but she was also uninterested in me as a possible suitor. At first I felt affronted since as far as she was concerned I was eligible enough and could expect to be treated as such, but presently my sense of humor enabled me to see the funny side of the situation and I began to wonder idly where her interests lay. Looking at her more closely, I saw to my surprise that she was not unattractive. She had her father’s fine dark eyes, a quantity of soft brown hair and one of those small delicate figures that some men with a penchant for porcelain find irresistible.
    “I am very well acquainted with your cousins,” she said casually as we toured the hydrangea bushes at the far edge of the lawn. “Did Papa tell you? I used to do my lessons with them at Penmarric.”
    “No, he didn’t mention it.”
    “I haven’t seen much of them recently. Poor Raymond had been abroad for some time before he died in Cairo, and Clarissa was too busy with her London debut last year to be much at Penmarric. I was invited to her ball, but did not go.” Dislike, polite but deadly, tinged her voice and was gone. “Harry I still see occasionally, but he is often in London nowadays… Will you be calling regularly now at Penmarric, Mr. Castallack? After all, now that Mr. Penmar has made you his heir …” She stopped abruptly and gazed for one long angry moment at the nearest hydrangea bush as she bit her lip.
    “How you intrigue me, Miss Barnwell! I said dryly after my initial surprise had worn off. “How could you possibly know I’m Giles Penmar’s heir? It’s no secret, I grant you, but it’s hardly common knowledge either at present! Are you a mind reader by any chance?”
    She laughed and blushed very prettily. I was already feeling much less sorry for her. It occurred to me that she was a young woman who could be most adept at fending for herself, and I decided that if she were a governess she would have the unattached master of the house proposing to her in less time than it took Mr. Rochester to say good morning to Jane Eyre.
    “Miss Barnwell,” I persisted, amused, “before I expire with curiosity, do, I entreat you, enlighten me. How did you hear the news so fast?”
    “Well, you see …” She began to explain. She had recently become acquainted with a Mr. Michael Vincent, a young man from Launceston whose family was known to her father. He had come to Penzance earlier that year to join the firm of Holmes, Holmes, Trebarvah and Holmes—
    “The Penmar solicitors,” I said. “I think I’m beginning to understand.” It occurred to me that a young lawyer would be a very seemly match for her, and I thought I could now understand her lack of interest in me as a possible suitor.
    “Mr. Vincent dined with us yesterday—he dines with us quite often—and he happened to mention—in a most oblique way, of course, I’m sure he did nothing improper—”
    “Of course,” I murmured soothingly.
    “Mr. Vincent is often at Penmarric. On business.” But her voice implied that his business provided him with a convenient excuse for calling there.
    “Oh?” I said. “Is he a friend of Harry’s?”
    “No,” said Miriam, spiteful as a cat with unsheathed claws, “but he is infatuated with Clarissa. She considers it a great joke.”
    So that, I thought, was how the land lay. Miriam was in love with the young solicitor, who was infatuated with my unusually striking cousin-by-adoption. No wonder I had heard the dislike in Miriam’s voice when she had spoken of Clarissa earlier! And I thought of the one time I had seen Clarissa, those brief minutes four years before at Penmarric, and remembered her brilliant dark eyes and wide passionate mouth. I had not been in London the previous summer when Clarissa had made her debut in society, but word of her success had still managed to reach me. One of my friends at Oxford had met her and sent her a sonnet a day until his inspiration