Read Online The Dower House by Malcolm Macdonald - Free Book Online

the rising star. That’s Willard. So to ask if he’s good misses the essential man. He’s certainly going to be successful . I guarantee that within five years his office will contain at least a hundred drawing boards. Well!’ He rubbed his hands and, looking about them, said, ‘What d’you think? Will it do?’
    â€˜It will do very nicely. I will be grateful—’
    â€˜You will be no such thing! It’s the very least we can do. When I told my father you were possibly coming here, it was all I could do to stop him coming down to meet you this afternoon. Yet until now he’s had absolutely no sympathy with our project.’
    â€˜I was going to say I will be grateful if I could leave paying the rent until . . .’ He saw no reason to be too specific.
    The old servants’ quarters and lumber rooms in the attics formed a square around the dome that gave light to the main stairwell of the house. Originally the parapet, which disguised the sloping roof and produced the architecturally correct Georgian box, had obscured the attic windows; but during the wartime occupation by the school, when the attic rooms had been converted to boys’ dormitories, they had cut part of the parapet away in front of each window for fire escapes. It opened up views on all four sides that were spectacular – east to Bramfield, west to Bull’s Green, north to Watton-at-Stone, and south across the Mimram Valley (which Cowper called the loveliest in all England) to Welwyn Garden City.
    Sally left the Johnsons to talk it over in private.
    â€˜Lavender glass,’ Willard said. ‘Hand blown and flattened. They’d pay a fortune for just this one window back home.’
    â€˜Home?’ Marianne took Willard’s hand. ‘Mmm?’
    â€˜Here?’ he asked. ‘Think so?’
    â€˜Don’t you?’ She squeezed his hand again. ‘We could be very happy here – starting right now.’
    â€˜Eh?’
    â€˜There’s a key in the door. Shall we test the floorboards for squeaks?’
    Adam and Felix had rejoined Sally in the Victorian-Tudor annexe to the genuine Tudor remnant.
    â€˜How much does Nicole know about . . . Marianne?’ Sally asked as soon as they came in. ‘Don’t look so surprised. She told me when I was showing them over the attic rooms.’ Then to Felix: ‘Can you really just shrug it off?’
    â€˜Felix thinks we must all draw a line across history,’ Adam said. ‘Not just us – everyone in England.’
    â€˜Or even . . . dare I mention the word – Europe ?’ Felix suggested.
    â€˜Yes, there too, of course.’
    â€˜I must say, Felix, that’s very Christian of you . . .’ Her voice trailed off in dismay. ‘I mean . . . of course . . . oh, dear!’
    Adam sought to repair the damage. ‘She just means you’re a real white man.’
    Felix let her flounder until a small debt was created; dear friends of his who had been unable to make such cold calculations were now dust and ashes in Austria. Then he laughed and squeezed her arm reassuringly. ‘Let’s agree it’s very humanist, eh? From this point in history onwards, God must take lessons from the humanists, I think, don’t you?’
    â€˜Why not?’ Still embarrassed, she turned to her husband. ‘Has Tony told Nicole? About Marianne?’
    Adam bit his lip. ‘Marianne wants to be the one.’
    â€˜So neither of you has told her!’ Sally was shocked.
    â€˜Frankly, I saw no reason to. I thought they’d give this place the once-over . . . maybe enjoy a few moments of pleasant fantasy . . . then wake up to stern reality and take the next boat to America. I still think they’ll do that. Marianne certainly has no ties to keep her on this side of the Atlantic.’
    â€˜Well, you can think again, my