An Accomplished Woman Read Online Free PDF Page A

murmured.
    (And a sword and a
silver snuff-box.)
    ‘Last time I saw the
young rip he was fashionable enough. But now he’s setting up as the greatest
swell you ever saw.’ George sniffed the mutton appreciatively. ‘Made me wonder,
you know, seeing him all fligged up, how I would feel if young Georgie started
living high on his expectations like that. Dice and horses and so on.’
    ‘Oh, but that’s quite a
different case,’ Susannah said. ‘Georgie is your son, and filial feeling
must always prevail. Mr Durrant is only the young man’s uncle — and uncles and
aunts, you know, can never be very important to the feelings. Only between
parent and child does one find the true sacred bond. After all,’ she accused
Lydia, ‘look how uncommonly attached you are to your father.’
    (‘Pon my soul — sink
me!’ cried the beau, lifting his quizzing-glass.) ‘Papa and I are very good
friends, certainly,’ Lydia said. ‘I am fortunate in my home life, where there is
no disparity of mind or taste: no malice to be encountered, or dullness to be
endured.’
    Susannah laughed her
silvery laugh. ‘Yes — I do like to think of you two pottering about amongst
your books. Oh, I should love to see dear Heystead again. Does my tree still
flourish as beautifully as ever?’
    ‘That’s the great oak,
on the rise before you strike the path to the fish-ponds,’ George put in.
‘Susannah is so very fond of it — she calls it her tree.’
    ‘It is so noble — it
seems to spread out its great arms in welcome,’ Susannah said. ‘Do, Lydia,
remember me to my tree.’
    ‘Certainly,’ Lydia said
reaching for her wine. ‘It is always asking after you.’
    ‘That won’t be long
now,’ George said, with a gentle plunge into melancholy: Lydia was to leave for
home the day after next. ‘Can’t believe it. Only seems a moment since you
arrived . . . Well — tomorrow night we must give you a proper farewell,’ he
went on decisively. ‘I say we go to Vauxhall. Music and supper and rack-punch
and so on. Then I shall get a sore head and not be able to do what I want to
do, which is make you stay with us longer.’
    ‘Oh! dear George,’ cried
Susannah, slinking round the back of his chair, and fastening her arms around
his neck like a lovely noose. ‘The things you do say!’
Chapter III
    For you, Miss
Templeton,’ the maid said the next morning, coming upon Lydia reading alone in
the drawing-room, ‘Lady Eastmond.’
    ‘Yes, it’s me, my dear,
and too late for you to hide in the escritoire, not that you could as it’s too
small altogether, and why must we call a writing-desk by a French name, I ask
you? It’s not as if one writes in French, though you could to be
sure, and Italian no doubt. German too perhaps? You must tell me. If you run to
Swedish, mind, I shall doubt you. One only presumes or supposes that there is such a language as Swedish. There are, assuredly, Swedes, but beyond that I
cannot go. Come: kiss me: old women are allowed to demand this — indeed how
else are they to get kisses at all? Contrast young women, who must be begged for
them, a matter of name your price in fact. You might name any price,
I’ll venture. And so where then is George, though don’t tell me, he is
toiling in the vaults — which is what I conceive men do in banks, or do they do
something else entirely? — and charming Mrs Templeton, whither she? Not that I
mind in the least, because I wanted thoroughly to have you to myself,
and here you are.’
    ‘And here you are, and
now sit down, you’re making me giddy, besides wearing out the carpet. Yes,
George is at Craven Street, and Susannah I think has taken the children for an
airing—’
    ‘Makes them sound almost
like bed-linen, does it not? Or at least as bed-linen should be, though I went
to stay many years ago at Burghley, which is made such a great thing of,
and there was not only dampness but residue. If I mention hairs that
resemble the tiny springs inside watches I