A Brief History of Montmaray Read Online Free PDF

presenting the Turkish delight to Veronica when we reached the castle. Veronica didn’t go out to meet the ship this time because she was cleaning out Vulcan, our ill-tempered stove. Henry claimed the Basque captain had sent along the sweets as a ‘totem of his affection’.
    ‘Do you mean a token?’ asked Veronica, pushing her hair off her forehead and leaving a smudge of charcoal. ‘A token is a symbol or a sign, whereas a totem is an animal used in primitive cultures to represent a particular–’
    ‘Yes, one of those,’ cried Henry gleefully. ‘Cause he’s in love with you!’
    It’s true that we always seem to get a better trade for the mussels when Veronica goes out in the rowboat, and it doesn’t surprise me that men would be attracted to her. After all, her mother was a Celebrated Beauty (according to an old Tatler I found, which had a whole page about Isabella’s engagement in it) and Veronica looks more and more like Isabella each day. Except that Veronica doesn’t always bother about brushing her hair or that sort of thing, because she generally has more important matters on her mind.
    Anyway, she was far more delighted by the newspapers than the sweets – Veronica likes facts, especially fresh ones. (Oh, there’s an idea – could Veronica be lured to England by the promise of unlimited supplies of newspapers?) Actually, it’s a pity Veronica didn’t go out in the boat today – she could have asked the Basque captain for candles or some paraffin for the lamps, as she’s the only one of us who speaks Spanish. Still, the supply ship is due next week, so we will just have to do without until then. In the meantime, I suppose I should confine my writing to daylight hours. And give Veronica her candle back.

2nd November, 1936
    THIS MORNING, I CAME downstairs in my threadbare nightgown in search of my hairbrush (Henry had borrowed it when I’d not been awake enough to object) and found Simon Chester sitting at the kitchen table.
    ‘Simon!’ I gasped. ‘What ... how...?’ Then I remembered that I’d outgrown my nightgown bodice some months back and hurriedly crossed my arms, meanwhile turning an unflattering shade of scarlet (I could even feel my elbows blushing). I wish I didn’t blush so easily. Veronica never blushes. This is because she has Poise, something I sadly lack.
    ‘Good morning, Sophia,’ said Simon, glancing up with his usual half-smile. (I’ve yet to figure out whether this is because he’s never wholly happy or because he’s worried about displaying his slightly uneven teeth.) He politely ignored my embarrassment and began to explain how he’d got a ride on a steamship headed for Lisbon.
    Halfway through his account, Veronica walked in with the egg basket. ‘And I don’t suppose you thought to bring any candles with you,’ she said, as though they were continuing an argument, which they probably were.
    ‘No,’ said Simon, glaring at her. Veronica gave him a withering look in return and stalked over to the sink.
    ‘But does Rebecca know you’re here?’ I asked.
    ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘She’s just gone in there.’ He nodded towards Uncle John’s room, glanced at Veronica’s rigid back, then lowered his voice. ‘And how is His Majesty?’ Simon asked me.
    ‘The same,’ I said, as Veronica smashed an egg with unnecessary force against the rim of the mixing bowl. (Veronica maintains that her father’s odd behaviour is pure self-indulgence and attention-seeking, and that Rebecca just encourages him.) Simon nodded slowly.
    ‘Well, I brought some papers that need his signature,’ he said. Simon works as a clerk for Mr Grenville, our family’s solicitor. ‘And Toby needs more pocket money. The account’s almost empty. I’m afraid the Princess Royal...’ But he didn’t need to explain to us that Aunt Charlotte had paid for the bare essentials this term and nothing else.
    ‘How much?’ asked Veronica, turning.
    ‘Twenty-five pounds should do for the