Read Online The Shrouded Walls by Susan Howatch - Free Book Online

twinkling in the distance.
    Axel came out of the dressing-room to meet me a few minutes later. His valet had shaved him for the second time that day, and he wore a gray coat with square tails, a striped waistcoat and long beige breeches cut in the French style which were slit at the sides above the ankle. He looked exceedingly elegant, yet curiously out of place in that quiet English country house. Perhaps, I thought alarmed, I also looked too elegant, even over-dressed, for the occasion. I glanced in the mirror hastily but before I could pass judgment on myself, he said: “Thank God you don’t look like Alice!” and kissed the nape of my neck as he stood behind me.
    He was evidently trying to make amends for his harshness at Rye. “Am I suitably dressed?” I said, still seeking reassurance. “I would not want to create a wrong impression.”
    “If you change your dress now I shall be very angry,” he retorted. “You need not worry about creating wrong impressions when you look as well as you do now.”
    We went downstairs to the saloon.
    Alice was knitting when we entered the room. I remember being surprised, because all the ladies I had been acquainted with in the past had spent their leisure hours sewing and I had never actually seen anyone knit before. There was a girl next to her on the couch, a lumpy girl with a pimpled face and an air of being near-sighted. This must evidently be Mary, Robert Brandson’s ward, whom Axel had mentioned to me. My glance passed from the two plain women to the woman in the high-backed chair by the fireplace, and stayed there. For here was one of the most striking women I had ever seen, not perhaps as beautiful or as attractive as my mother, but a handsome, good-looking woman of about forty-five years of age with black hair tinged with silver at the temples and the wide-set slanting eyes I had noticed earlier when I had first met Ned.
    She rose to her feet as we entered the room and crossed the floor towards us, every movement stressing her domination of the scene.
    “Well, George,” she said to Axel, “it took you ten months to find an English bride, but I must say the long delay obviously produced the best results! She looks quite charming.” She drew me to her and kissed me on both cheeks with cool dry lips. “Welcome to your new home, child.”
    I disliked being called “child,” but nonetheless contrived to curtsey and smile graciously while murmuring a word of thanks to her.
    “How are you, Esther,” Axel was saying to his step-mother, but he made no attempt to kiss her, and I realized then that he had shown no hint of affection to any member of his family. “You look much better than when I last saw you.”
    “Please, George, don’t remind me of those dreadful days of the inquest ... Mary, come over here—you’re not chained to the couch, are you? That’s better ... my dear, this is Mary Moore, my husband’s ward who lives here with us—ah, here’s Vere at last! Where have you been, Vere? George and his wife have just come downstairs only a moment ago.”
    He was a slim pale man. He seemed to have inherited his mother’s build, but otherwise he did not resemble her. He had fair hair and lashes, and his complexion was so light that it was almost feminine. In contrast his eyes were a deep vivid blue and were by far his most striking feature; I particularly noticed them because when he smiled it was with his mouth only and his eyes remained bright but without expression.
    “Hello George , ” he said and while I noticed that he spoke the King’s English without trace of a country accent I also noticed that he spoke as he smiled without expression. “We were begin n ing to think you weren’t returning to Haraldsdyke.”
    He might have sounded disappointed, but he did not. However, neither did he sound pleased. The curious lack of inflection made me feel uneasy.
    I was presented to him, but although he was courteous in his response I still did not feel at