Suffragette Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

nine, but she still remembered the rotund, bewhiskered, kindly old gentleman who’d always smelt of tobacco smoke when she climbed onto his
knee.
    Augusta returned her gaze steadily, but her voice trembled a little as she said, ‘More than I can ever put into words, my dear.’
    There was a knock on the bedroom door and Beth’s heart-shaped little face peered around it. ‘’Scuse me, madam, but Mrs Maltby says would Miss Florrie come down to the morning
room. Mr Richards is here to see her.’
    ‘Thank you, Beth.’ As the door closed behind the maid, Augusta touched her granddaughter’s hand. ‘Off you go then, my dear, and get the dirty deed done.’

Three
    ‘Oh, Florrie dear, there you are.’
    ‘Yes, here I am, Mother,’ Florrie said gaily, closing the door behind her and walking towards the fireplace where her mother and Gervase sat, one on either side.
    The young man had risen at her entry and was now smiling at her, looking, Florrie thought, unusually nervous. Now Clara rose and there was no mistaking her agitation, but then her mother was
always anxious about something or other and was often confined to her room, quite unable to face the rigours of running the household in the way that Edgar demanded. That was left to Augusta.
    ‘I’ll – er – go to my room,’ Clara murmured, scuttling out as if desperate to escape from a scene that she feared was going to erupt into angry words and cause a
tense atmosphere throughout the house that would linger for weeks, if her wayward daughter refused Gervase’s proposal.
    ‘Gervase – how lovely to see you,’ Florrie said brightly. ‘Can I offer you a drink? Tea? Coffee? Or maybe something stronger?’ she added mischievously.
    ‘No – thank you. Florrie – I—’
    ‘My word, Gervase, you look very smart today.’
    He was wearing a dark, pinstriped three-piece suit instead of his usual country tweeds. He was tall and broad-shouldered, happiest when he was striding about the fields of his estate, but not
out of place or awkward in an elegant drawing room. He was at ease in any surroundings – but not today.
    ‘Florrie – darling,’ he held out his hands. ‘Please, come and sit down.’
    She allowed him to lead her to the sofa. They sat side by side.
    ‘You know why I’m here, don’t you?’
    She looked up into his gentle blue eyes that usually twinkled with merriment but at this moment were unusually serious and intense. She felt an urge to smooth the wiry fair hair that curled so
vigorously that no amount of plastering it down would make it lie flat.
    ‘Please, Gervase, don’t say it. Please don’t. I – I don’t want to hurt you. You mean the world to me as my dearest friend, but I really can’t marry
you.’
    His handsome, craggy face fell into lines of disappointment. ‘Why not, Florrie? Just tell me why not?’
    The young girl sighed. This was so difficult. How much easier it would be just to give in and say ‘yes’. All her family would be pleased with her, and she’d no doubt –
and it was not conceit – that her acceptance would make Gervase ‘the happiest man on earth’. She could almost hear him saying it. But what none of them could understand was that
it would be a fleeting happiness. It wouldn’t last forever. And she couldn’t bear to think that they might come to hate each other. She couldn’t do that. Not to Gervase – or
to herself.
    ‘I love you dearly,’ she began badly. That was quite the wrong thing to say.
    Hope sprang into his eyes. ‘Then—’
    ‘As I love James,’ she added firmly, trying to make him understand. ‘And you know how much that is.’
    Her brother, younger than her by four years, was the darling of the family. Their mother doted on him, their father had high hopes for him, and even Augusta – though she’d never
admit to having favourites – melted like butter at the sight of him. Florrie had never felt jealous of James; she adored him just as much as everyone else.