Before the Storm Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Melanie Clegg
circles,’ Mrs Garland admitted with some difficulty, ‘but it didn’t do the Gunning sisters any harm did it? I’ve seen a painting of the one that married two Dukes and I’m sure that my Eliza is twice the beauty that she was. She will certainly be much richer!’
Sidonie smiled faintly but she inwardly cursed the existence of the celebrated Gunning sisters, a pair of impoverished but exquisitely beautiful Irish girls from a similar background, she imagined, to Mrs Garland. They had taken English society by storm a few decades earlier and married into the aristocracy and ever since then the two Gunnings had been twin deities to ambitious mamas everywhere and a byword for serious social mobility.
She briefly considered asking what the two Garland girls thought of their mother’s plans for them but quickly decided against it. Instead she fixed a bright smile to her face and asked if she could meet her pupil.
Chapter Four
Clementine’s heart sank when she heard the gentle knock on her bedroom door. She’d been expecting it of course - her family seemed to delight in seeking her out just when she most wished to be alone and this was no exception. She’d been crying at her little mahogany writing desk ever since coming upstairs, caught between feelings of despair and also horrible, crushing embarrassment that once again she had allowed her feelings to get the better of her. No wonder they all treated her like a child, when she behaved so appallingly.
‘Can I come in?’ Miss Roche’s voice was quiet with a very slight French accent.
‘Of course.’ After a moment’s hesitation, Clementine wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, stood up and went to open the door herself. She couldn’t help but blush when she saw Sidonie again and remembered her awful, mortifying outburst in the hall. ‘I couldn’t help it...’ she mumbled now, not knowing what else to say. ‘I am so sorry.’
‘Let’s not speak of it again,’ Sidonie replied with a warm smile. ‘Shall we talk now or would you like me to come back later?’ She looked past Clementine to the desk that she had been sitting at, which was strewn with notebooks and scraps of paper, all of which were covered with large, sloping handwriting. ‘Do you enjoy writing?’ she asked. ‘What do you write?’
Clementine shrugged and pushed back her long auburn hair, which she wore loose and held back from her face by a broad blue silk ribbon. ‘It’s only poetry and a story that I have been working on,’ she replied diffidently. ‘Nothing good. I read a lot but don’t know how to say things. Do you know what I mean?’ She looked at Sidonie then for the first time, taking in her bright dark brown eyes, her simply arranged brown hair and the slight dusting of freckles across her nose.
‘I know exactly what you mean,’ Sidonie responded. ‘My brother writes books, you know. Nothing very exciting or famous but I do envy him the ability to paint pictures with words and take people on journeys with him.’
Clementine’s eyes shone and she clasped her hands together excitedly. ‘Oh, but that’s it exactly!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s what I want to do, if I only knew how.’
Sidonie smiled then. ‘You are very young, my dear. I am sure that it will all come with time.’ She went to the desk and gave her new pupil a quizzical look. ‘Do you mind if I have a look?’
Clementine stared at her curiously. ‘No one has ever asked before,’ she said, blushing crimson. ‘It’s not very good.’ She watched, her heart in her mouth as Sidonie lifted up a sheaf of papers and began to read. ‘It’s just ideas at the moment,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what it is going to be yet.’
Sidonie smiled and looked across at her. ‘Just like you then,’ she remarked.
Clementine looked at her feet. ‘That’s just my age.’
‘No, not at all or at least not totally that!’ Sidonie replied. ‘You are a bundle of engaging possibilities, Miss
Sidonie smiled faintly but she inwardly cursed the existence of the celebrated Gunning sisters, a pair of impoverished but exquisitely beautiful Irish girls from a similar background, she imagined, to Mrs Garland. They had taken English society by storm a few decades earlier and married into the aristocracy and ever since then the two Gunnings had been twin deities to ambitious mamas everywhere and a byword for serious social mobility.
She briefly considered asking what the two Garland girls thought of their mother’s plans for them but quickly decided against it. Instead she fixed a bright smile to her face and asked if she could meet her pupil.
Chapter Four
Clementine’s heart sank when she heard the gentle knock on her bedroom door. She’d been expecting it of course - her family seemed to delight in seeking her out just when she most wished to be alone and this was no exception. She’d been crying at her little mahogany writing desk ever since coming upstairs, caught between feelings of despair and also horrible, crushing embarrassment that once again she had allowed her feelings to get the better of her. No wonder they all treated her like a child, when she behaved so appallingly.
‘Can I come in?’ Miss Roche’s voice was quiet with a very slight French accent.
‘Of course.’ After a moment’s hesitation, Clementine wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, stood up and went to open the door herself. She couldn’t help but blush when she saw Sidonie again and remembered her awful, mortifying outburst in the hall. ‘I couldn’t help it...’ she mumbled now, not knowing what else to say. ‘I am so sorry.’
‘Let’s not speak of it again,’ Sidonie replied with a warm smile. ‘Shall we talk now or would you like me to come back later?’ She looked past Clementine to the desk that she had been sitting at, which was strewn with notebooks and scraps of paper, all of which were covered with large, sloping handwriting. ‘Do you enjoy writing?’ she asked. ‘What do you write?’
Clementine shrugged and pushed back her long auburn hair, which she wore loose and held back from her face by a broad blue silk ribbon. ‘It’s only poetry and a story that I have been working on,’ she replied diffidently. ‘Nothing good. I read a lot but don’t know how to say things. Do you know what I mean?’ She looked at Sidonie then for the first time, taking in her bright dark brown eyes, her simply arranged brown hair and the slight dusting of freckles across her nose.
‘I know exactly what you mean,’ Sidonie responded. ‘My brother writes books, you know. Nothing very exciting or famous but I do envy him the ability to paint pictures with words and take people on journeys with him.’
Clementine’s eyes shone and she clasped her hands together excitedly. ‘Oh, but that’s it exactly!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s what I want to do, if I only knew how.’
Sidonie smiled then. ‘You are very young, my dear. I am sure that it will all come with time.’ She went to the desk and gave her new pupil a quizzical look. ‘Do you mind if I have a look?’
Clementine stared at her curiously. ‘No one has ever asked before,’ she said, blushing crimson. ‘It’s not very good.’ She watched, her heart in her mouth as Sidonie lifted up a sheaf of papers and began to read. ‘It’s just ideas at the moment,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what it is going to be yet.’
Sidonie smiled and looked across at her. ‘Just like you then,’ she remarked.
Clementine looked at her feet. ‘That’s just my age.’
‘No, not at all or at least not totally that!’ Sidonie replied. ‘You are a bundle of engaging possibilities, Miss