Read Online Ravenscliffe by Jane Sanderson - Free Book Online

same lively expression, the same shock of sandy hair, the same suggestion of perpetual and carefree irrepressibility. Dickie, their younger brother, had it too: the male line were peas in a pod. No one knew whom Henrietta resembled. Not her mother, certainly: on this the countess often remarked, with a special, sorrowful smile. Not that she needed waste any sympathy on Henrietta, who liked her own height and strength and robust, outdoor constitution. Born for the saddle, not the chaise longue: this was her father’s fond assessment, and Henrietta took it as the compliment he intended. She smiled now at the thought, andTobias, mistaking it for Thea-related encouragement, smiled back and said: ‘Henry, I’m a goner. I can’t remember when I last felt this excited.’
    ‘Oh Toby, you’re always excited about something. You have the personality of a puppy.’
    ‘Topping idea, a swim,’ he said. ‘Shall we? Except all the town’ll be down there.’
    Henrietta pulled a face. ‘Not the town ponds, idiot. The one down at Home Farm. I’m not taking a dip in public view. Unseemly enough in private.’
    Agnes, the housemaid, tapped on the door and entered, bearing a silver tray with two glasses and a jug of iced lemonade. She walked with scrupulous care, as if on a tightrope.
    ‘Just the ticket,’ said Tobias. ‘Thank you, Agnes.’
    The girl blushed, bobbed and left, and brother and sister were silent for a moment as they each took a deep draught of the cold drink. Henrietta, her thirst slaked, held the glass against first one cheek and then the other. She closed one eye and scrutinised Tobias critically.
    ‘So,’ she said. ‘Thea Stirling.’
    ‘O, be still my beating heart,’ said Tobias, theatrically.
    ‘Don’t fling yourself at her feet the minute she turns up. You’ll frighten her.’
    ‘I shall behave with perfect chivalry and decorum, all the while waiting for my moment.’
    ‘Your moment?’
    ‘To ask her to be my wife. Thea Hoyland, Countess of Netherwood. It sounds well, doesn’t it?’
    Henrietta smiled. ‘Thea Stirling sounds well too. She’s a modern young woman. She may not be looking for a husband.’
    ‘Oh come off it,’ said Tobias. ‘Aren’t you all?’
    ‘Speaking only for myself, no.’
    ‘Odd girl. Well, there’ll always be a place for you herewhen Thea and I are earl and countess. You can be Mad Aunt Henry in the West Wing.’
    Henrietta nodded graciously. ‘Thank you,’ she said. She held up her glass and Tobias clinked his own against it to seal the deal.
    ‘Mama will be raging, of course,’ she said. ‘She can’t stick Americans, especially attractive ones who’re out to snare her sons. Not that Thea has the least notion of snaring anyone.’
    ‘Mama must overcome her prejudice. In any case, she’ll be entirely diverted by the presence of the king,’ said Tobias, then, changing tack: ‘Lovely Mimi Anderson and Dickie. What an unlikely match.’
    Henrietta snorted with laughter. ‘Toby, mind what you say against your brother. He’s the image of you.’
    ‘Minus my charisma and irresistible charm,’ said Tobias.
    ‘Minus your staggering self-regard, you mean.’
    ‘That too,’ he said, and grinned. ‘Right. Last one in the pond’s a rotten egg.’
    And he was up and off, leaving Henrietta to trail in his wake and wonder at her brother’s simple and limitless appetite for frivolity.

Chapter 7
    Y ou’d think a man might take off his jacket and loosen his tie when the thermometer on the wall outside the estate office showed seventy-two degrees. Jem Arkwright, the earl’s land agent, had his sleeves rolled up past the elbows and no collar on his shirt, and he made no apology for it. But there was Absalom Blandford, sitting behind his desk, buttoned up tight to the Adam’s apple and still wearing the immaculate black worsted jacket he favoured for work. Jem stuck his head round Absalom’s door and the bailiff looked up as if affronted by the intrusion. His