A Country Marriage Read Online Free PDF

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    ‘Hello Mary. Welcome to Summerleas. I’m so pleased you’re here and if I can do anything to help you settle in, well, you just come and find me. My, what a lovely dress! Such a perfect fit on you, too.’
    ‘Thank you, Ellen.’ As she said it, something in her neck suddenly relaxed and she could actually feel her cheeks softening into an unforced smile. Standing in front of her, Ellen was dainty; fragile almost and her hair was so fine that pulled smoothly back into a ribbon at the nape of her neck, it made her think of a scarf of pure-white silk. Her skin was as pale as ivory tinted with pink, her eyes were the lightest blue-grey and the only adornment to her appearance seemed to be the tiniest simple gold cross worn on a fine chain about her neck. Thankfully, here was someone friendly; someone who was welcoming in precisely the way that Annie wasn’t.
    ‘Someways,’ she became aware of George saying as Will and Ellen walked away, ‘are young Robert and my sister, Tabitha, although I’ve not set eyes on either of them since we got back.’
    She nodded and offered a smile. After all, meeting a younger brother and sister couldn’t possibly be as worrisome a prospect as Tom and Annie had turned out to be. That said, her attention at that very moment was being drawn back to them. On the one hand, even setting eyes upon them made her squirm but on the other, there was something fascinating – compelling even – about watching the way that Annie was settling herself at the far end of the table. Her gestures seemed designed to lure an audience; the exaggerated fashion in which she was rearranging the folds of her skirt over her legs; the showy manner in which she was adjusting the neckline of her top; the excessive fingering of a curl of hair at her ear. What, precisely, though, was it all in aid of? It wasn’t as though she was young and unwed and courting male attention. In fact, the whole thing felt so contrived as to appear… unseemly. George was apparently oblivious, though, his attention given to pulling a chair from under the table and gesturing to her to sit down. Pulling out another, he then sat beside her and when a woman in a long pinafore arrived with a tray bearing earthenware jugs, he wasted no time in relieving her of three of them before reaching across for two mugs and setting one soundly before her.
    ‘Cider?’ he asked her, holding up one of the jugs. She shook her head. ‘Well I doubt very much that you drinks ale ,’ he observed with a laugh and at which she felt herself blush. ‘Must be mead for you then,’ he deduced and poured her a generous draught.
    Now what to do? She didn’t like mead either but to admit to it now felt ungracious, so she accepted it from him anyway and stood it in front of her. Honey; the fragrance from it was of dazzling sunshine and heady, summer meadows; the sickly sweetness of it cloying to her empty stomach such that momentarily, she closed her eyes. When he wasn’t looking, she would push it further away still but in turning her head from its reach, her attention was caught by the sight of several young girls bearing trays of food. And as they came to the table and set them down, the aromas of fresh bread and pastry made her feel weaker still.
    Beside her, though, George’s father was getting to his feet, tugging at his waistcoat and raising himself on tiptoes to look about the barn.
    ‘Ahem. Beggin’ your indulgence now, folk, if you’d be so kind.’ From front to back, the hubbub of conversation ebbed away and in its place came the rustling of straw as guests turned in his direction and she felt their scrutiny all over again. In response, she ducked her head, hoping that any formalities would be brief. ‘Well then, welcome one and all on this joyous occasion of the weddin’ of my son George to Mary,’ Thomas Strong announced. Slowly, she looked up. ‘Now, being as we’re all one family here tonight, I’ll spare you all the speechifying.’