Read Online The Disorderly Knights by Dorothy Dunnett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dorothy Dunnett
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Sybilla could have achieved. His wife, in appalled ecstasy, dropped her sewing and gazed at them both, her hands over her mouth. Sybilla herself, after a moment, went on evenly. ‘I cannot be hurt by Francis, my dear. What have you seen in France that makes you so afraid for this child?’
Lord Culter moved to the window and back: a square, hard-muscled family man with cares and responsibilities in plenty, wearied as he had been wearied all his life with the task of separating his brother’s wake from his own. At length he said plainly, ‘I’m afraid for them both. You wouldn’t expect morality and restraint at the French Court. Licence is the mode and Francis has been setting the fashion. You’ve heard, I suppose, of Oonagh O’Dwyer. She was only among the more reputable of his indulgences. He has had a surfeit of that. He’ll want something different now. Something,’ said Richard, exasperation only half suppressed in his voice, ‘like falling romantically into young love.’
Sybilla’s pointed face, upturned to his, had not moved. ‘Well of course. Why not?’ she asked. ‘The girl is quick and well-read. She won’t stay sheltered for long. Or do you think she will take againsthim?’ Sybilla cocked her head to one side, eyeing her older son. ‘But, do you know, it would do him so much good if she did.’
‘She’s very young,’ Mariotta couldn’t forbear remarking.
‘How old do you think he is?’ said Sybilla placidly. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t want him hanging about my petticoats for the rest of my life. He is, you must admit, a little disruptive in the home. What’s your anxiety then, Richard? You think he has no self-restraint, and they will simply ruin each other before the grown-ups can prevent it? But, my dear boy, the child has been brought up in the Religion, with a brother in one of the strictest Christian Orders. She is unassailable, surely. And Francis.… Unless he has changed very much, Francis surely will respect her.’
It was unlike Sybilla to be complacent. In fact, it was only afterwards that Richard came to understand his mother’s wilful self-deception in the cause of her younger son’s need. At the time, unaccountably, he lost his head and said baldly, ‘Then I advise you to engage some fat, presentable maids, or better, choose one or two grooms for their looks. Otherwise, I shall leave you the task of explaining to Sir Graham Reid Malett the Culters’ stewardship of his sister.’
‘ That’s quite enough ,’ said Sybilla. She had risen, her eyes level with his chest, but he stepped back a pace. There was no amusement in her gaze. She continued, ‘What Francis does abroad is his own misfortune. What he does under my roof is what I and your wife permit him to do. I have never lacked authority over my sons yet; and to suggest that a guest in this house would be in danger is a stupidity verging on viciousness. The rest of your observations we shall consider unsaid.’
Her own face pale, Mariotta became aware that the incisive voice had stopped. Her husband, who could control without effort five thousand fighting men, stood saying nothing, his gaze on his mother, his temples moist as if the room were too hot. Then he said with difficulty, ‘I’m sorry. Of course he won’t touch her. But she might be attracted to him.’
‘And so?’ She would not compromise.
‘Mother, she’s too young for that kind of heartbreak. You talk of marriage. What do you think I’d give to see him married? What do you think it costs me to admit that marriage between Francis and any young, convent-bred girl is in all honour long past allowing?’
Sybilla’s face changed. The arched, pale brows drew together and she sat, a little too firmly, in the chair she had just vacated. Then her straight blue gaze fixed on Richard again. ‘Of course, he is too clever for his own good. But there is no vice there. None. I will not believe it.’
Lord Culter did not answer. There was a
Lord Culter moved to the window and back: a square, hard-muscled family man with cares and responsibilities in plenty, wearied as he had been wearied all his life with the task of separating his brother’s wake from his own. At length he said plainly, ‘I’m afraid for them both. You wouldn’t expect morality and restraint at the French Court. Licence is the mode and Francis has been setting the fashion. You’ve heard, I suppose, of Oonagh O’Dwyer. She was only among the more reputable of his indulgences. He has had a surfeit of that. He’ll want something different now. Something,’ said Richard, exasperation only half suppressed in his voice, ‘like falling romantically into young love.’
Sybilla’s pointed face, upturned to his, had not moved. ‘Well of course. Why not?’ she asked. ‘The girl is quick and well-read. She won’t stay sheltered for long. Or do you think she will take againsthim?’ Sybilla cocked her head to one side, eyeing her older son. ‘But, do you know, it would do him so much good if she did.’
‘She’s very young,’ Mariotta couldn’t forbear remarking.
‘How old do you think he is?’ said Sybilla placidly. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t want him hanging about my petticoats for the rest of my life. He is, you must admit, a little disruptive in the home. What’s your anxiety then, Richard? You think he has no self-restraint, and they will simply ruin each other before the grown-ups can prevent it? But, my dear boy, the child has been brought up in the Religion, with a brother in one of the strictest Christian Orders. She is unassailable, surely. And Francis.… Unless he has changed very much, Francis surely will respect her.’
It was unlike Sybilla to be complacent. In fact, it was only afterwards that Richard came to understand his mother’s wilful self-deception in the cause of her younger son’s need. At the time, unaccountably, he lost his head and said baldly, ‘Then I advise you to engage some fat, presentable maids, or better, choose one or two grooms for their looks. Otherwise, I shall leave you the task of explaining to Sir Graham Reid Malett the Culters’ stewardship of his sister.’
‘ That’s quite enough ,’ said Sybilla. She had risen, her eyes level with his chest, but he stepped back a pace. There was no amusement in her gaze. She continued, ‘What Francis does abroad is his own misfortune. What he does under my roof is what I and your wife permit him to do. I have never lacked authority over my sons yet; and to suggest that a guest in this house would be in danger is a stupidity verging on viciousness. The rest of your observations we shall consider unsaid.’
Her own face pale, Mariotta became aware that the incisive voice had stopped. Her husband, who could control without effort five thousand fighting men, stood saying nothing, his gaze on his mother, his temples moist as if the room were too hot. Then he said with difficulty, ‘I’m sorry. Of course he won’t touch her. But she might be attracted to him.’
‘And so?’ She would not compromise.
‘Mother, she’s too young for that kind of heartbreak. You talk of marriage. What do you think I’d give to see him married? What do you think it costs me to admit that marriage between Francis and any young, convent-bred girl is in all honour long past allowing?’
Sybilla’s face changed. The arched, pale brows drew together and she sat, a little too firmly, in the chair she had just vacated. Then her straight blue gaze fixed on Richard again. ‘Of course, he is too clever for his own good. But there is no vice there. None. I will not believe it.’
Lord Culter did not answer. There was a
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