Keeping the Castle Read Online Free PDF Page B

evening dress: his neck cloth was of dazzling white lawn starched to a fare-thee-well and tied with mathematical precision, and an exquisitely well-cut long-tailed coat revealed a muscular yet slender build. Indeed, so overpowered were my stepsisters by the combination of masculine beauty and great wealth that they clutched at one another for support and fanned themselves energetically as they were introduced. Or perhaps it was the after-effects of the Bloom of Ninon de L’Enclos.
    “Mrs. Winthrop, Miss Winthrop, Miss Charity Winthrop.” The Baron bowed his acknowledgments to each lady. Sir Quentin, having performed his duty in pronouncing our names (save mine, for I was invisible in my corner) had walked off in obedience to a command from his wife.
    “And this is . . . ?” The Baron bowed again, craning his neck to peer at me around the veritable thicket of egret feathers which decorated my stepsisters’ hair.
    I could not see Prudence’s and Charity’s faces, as their backs were towards me, but I could judge the thoughts flitting through their heads by the long silence that ensued. My mother was not attending to our conversation—her notice had been claimed by the lady who had called me a mermaid and who was now making her acquaintance. My stepsisters were therefore debating the possibility of disowning me, perhaps, in view of the simplicity of my attire, identifying me as a passing maidservant. However, common sense won out at last and Prudence said, “My apologies, M’lord. This is our young relative, Miss Crawley.” She leaned towards him and confided in a whisper, “ Poor Althea! It is dreadful of us, but we do tend to forget about her .”
    Then she went on in a loud, carefully enunciated voice, as if I was half-witted, or the age of my brother Alexander, “Althea, dear, this is Lord Boring. Our host this evening, you know. Say hello politely.”
    I did as she bade me and dropped a curtsey. “My lord,” I said.
    Lord Boring lifted what I could not help but feel was a satirical eyebrow at my stepsisters. “ Enchanté,” he said to me, bowing. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Crawley. I believe your father was Mr. Thaddeus Crawley of Crawley Castle. I am sorry never to have met him, but my uncle spoke highly of his kindness and courtesy as a neighbor.” He turned to Prudence, while keeping an eye on me, and said, “Ladies may find a younger female relative forgettable, but no gentleman would agree that a young lady such as Miss Crawley ought to be overlooked for so much as a moment.”
    Prudence replied, still in a whisper, “ Oh! She’s pretty enough, but . . .” She tapped her lips twice with her fan, nodded in an exaggerated fashion, and gave him a look of deep significance. Uncertain of whether I was being represented as simpleminded, demented, or merely dowerless, I contented myself with a smile and the observation that, while Gudgeon Park had always been a noble estate, his mother’s efforts in the past few months had transformed it into a veritable enchanted palace.
    My stepsisters burst into derisive laughter. “Really, Althea!” said Charity. “An ‘enchanted palace’! What a phrase!” And she in turn leaned forward and whispered, “ Such a naïf! A mind like a child’s. The poor thing!”
    “In fact,” said Lord Boring, “I quite agree with Miss Crawley. Those are almost the exact words I used myself to my mother not more than an hour ago.”
    My eyes traveled over the brightly lighted scene. I was accustomed to spending my evenings in a state of near total darkness only slightly relieved by the light of one cheap tallow dip. But here the night had almost been entirely banished by rank upon rank of beeswax candles; I could see everything as tho’ we stood under a noonday sun. “Yes,” I said, remembering the former state of the house, with dust and dead leaves and little clots of dog hair from the former Lord Boring’s Irish setters drifting down the