Read Online The Girl in the Gatehouse by Julie Klassen - Free Book Online Page B

father, sitting in his favorite chair, one leg crossed over the other, a book in one hand, pipe in the other, a curl of aromatic smoke rising. In fact, whenever Matthew smelled that sharp sweet smell of tobacco he was instantly transported back to this humble room in which he had spent so many boyhood evenings before leaving for naval academy.
    But instead of being struck with how familiar the scene was, his father in his favorite room, his favorite chair, engaged in his favorite pastime, Matthew was instead struck by how different his father looked. How aged.
    His shoulders were stooped, and the hand holding the heavy volume trembled under its weight. His once thinning grey hair was now a snowy fringe around the back of his head. He still wore long side-whiskers, but these were now white as well. Age spots and wrinkles competed for preeminence over the top of his head, reminding Matthew of the naval chart of a busy trading route. A thick pouch of webbed wrinkles framed each eye, though his eyes at least were as clear and blue as Matthew remembered.
    His mother, it seemed, had fared worse. Her appearance was much the same as ever – cheerful brown eyes, light brown curls threaded with silver, her frame slight but for the rounded middle that evidenced her fondness for sweets. But Matthew had not been home a quarter hour before he realized his mother was not well. Her breathing was audibly labored, as if she had just run in from the rain. There was also a wheezing sound in her chest that alarmed him.
    “It is just the damp, my dear. No need to worry,” she’d replied when he asked. “I shall be perfectly well, now you’re home safe and sound.”
    He took her hand. “I have let a fine house, Mamma. Large enough for all of us and not as damp as this one. I would like you both to come and live with me. It will make a nice change for you, and a change might do you good.”
    “Your mother is fine here, as am I,” his father said. “We are not about to be uprooted at our age. This is our home, Matthew. Not good enough for you now – is that it?”
    Matthew felt deflated and defensive at once. “I did not say that, sir.”
    “You were born and raised here, don’t forget. Our friends are here, our church is here, your brother’s grave is here. We’ll not leave so easily.”
    His mother bit her lip and squeezed Matthew’s hand. “Thank you, my dear. You are very kind to think of us. But you need the society of other young people. People as successful and clever as you are. Not a couple of old fools like us.”
    “Mother, you are not – ”
    “We’re fine, Matthew,” his father interrupted. “We’ve not got one foot in the grave yet.” He rose. “If your mother needs something, I shall be the one to provide it. We don’t need your blood money buying us fancies and dainties.” He strode through the door.
    Matthew’s objection followed him from the room. “Blood money? It is hard-earned prize money from His Britannic Majesty’s Navy.”
    “Don’t mind your father, Matthew,” his mother soothed, patting his arm. “It’s his pride talking – that’s all. Hates the thought of not being able to give me the kind of life he thinks I want.” Tears brightened her eyes. “Without Peter, I can never be truly happy, but I am content, Matthew. Especially now you’re home. And I want you to be content as well.”
    His father reentered the room, teacup in hand. “Setting yourself up in a manor house like some lord, buying dandy clothes, and puttin’ on airs to woo some fickle female? I’ll have no part in that.”
    “John, please,” Helen Bryant said, then turned plaintive eyes toward Matthew. “My dear, if a fine house is what you want, then I am happy for you. But if you feel you need to do all this to earn the affection of a certain lady, as your father says, then I must question whether this young woman is truly right for you. Truly loves you for who you are.”
    Matthew sighed. “In the real world,