Michael Cox Read Online Free PDF Page B

unaccountably finds himself, although I have a sense that he is a kindly soul at heart. An unobtrusive but watchful air about him.

This was the description of Barrington that I made in my Book of Secrets, after its subject had left, and I had drunk up my tea and eaten my bread-and-butter. Then I washed, dressed myself in the plain black gown, starched white pinafore, and cap that Madame had provided, and went out, for the first time on my own, into the great house of Evenwood.

    THE NARROW WOODEN stairs that led down from my room took me, first, to a white-washed corridor, then, becoming wider and grander, to the Picture Gallery, lit by a row of arched windows, in which stood the door to my Lady’s private apartments.
It was now nearly seven o’clock, giving me time enough before I must attend Lady Tansor to do a little exploring. So, after examining the pictures in the gallery, I continued my descent until I emerged at last into the great echoing vestibule, with its domed lantern high above, through which the morning sun was now streaming.
Beneath the lantern, in a semi-circular alcove, and surrounded by six candles set in tall wooden holders, hung a painting. It showed a short, stiff-necked, proud-looking gentleman and his wife, the latter cradling a baby lovingly in her arms.
The lady possessed a most exceptional beauty and grace, with an abundance of dark hair gathered up under a cap of black lace, a narrow band of velvet around her long white throat.
I cannot say why it was, but her image instantly exercised a peculiar and lasting power over me. My heart seemed to beat a little faster as I looked upon her. In after days, I would often come and stand intently looking at the picture, as if such an act of dedicated concentration might bring her back to life; for – unaccountable and fantastical though it seemed – I wished with all my heart and soul to know her, speak to her, to hear her voice, and to see her move amongst living creatures once again.
I discovered soon enough that she was Laura Duport, first wife of the late Lord Tansor, my Lady’s predecessor, and that the pretty babe had been his Lordship’s only son, Henry Hereward Duport, on whom all his dearest hopes for the continuation of his line had briefly rested. The little boy, however, had been cruelly taken from him at the age of seven, after a fatal fall from his pony. Lord Tansor’s heart had been broken – yes, and his poor wife’s, too; for Sukie Prout later told me that she went quite mad at the last. She was found wandering about the Park, in a cruel frost, dressed only in her shift, bleeding and hurt. They carried her back to the house, but she died soon afterwards, and was buried in the Mausoleum that stands on the edge of the Park.
I turned away from the portrait and looked about me.
To my left was a pair of tall gilded doors surmounted by a shield carved in stone, bearing (as I later discovered) the Tansor arms. One of the doors being partly open, I peeped in, and then went through into a richly appointed room of a predominantly yellow colour, with a great chandelier, suspended by a massive gold chain, that appeared to my mind like some strange crystal galleon floating in mid-air.
I passed through this apartment into another, in which the colour red predominated this time, and then into a third and a fourth, each one sumptuously decorated and furnished. Paintings in ornate frames, many of huge dimensions, rich tapestries, and towering looking-glasses crowded the walls; and wherever the eye rested were accumulations of precious objects of every size, shape, and kind.
The fourth of these rooms, which I came to know as the Green Drawing-Room, opened into the magnificent State Saloon. Its walls and lofty ceiling were entirely covered with brightly painted scenes of ancient Athens and Rome, in which columns and buildings had been so cunningly rendered by the artist that, on first seeing them, I almost believed that they must actually be real, and