Surrender at Orchard Rest Read Online Free PDF Page A

manor in her black organza gown and the heavy onyx necklace that she had saved during Wilson’s raid by depositing it in the chimney. Her golden hair was piled in a massive chignon on the back of her shapely head, but curls were escaping through the net, giving her a youthful look. She returned Ivy’s greeting with cordial hospitality, but her forehead was furrowed in concentration and she made noises of contrition as she searched.
    “I had Tuck decant some port for the guests, Somerset,” she said as she lifted her own goblet. “It’s not corked like the other bottle we served. I checked to be sure. We’ll let the gentleman have it in the library after the meal while the ladies finish their coffee in the parlor. You can receive everyone in the parlor and send them to the dining room when the last guest arrives.”
    “Is Helen coming?” asked Somerset.
    “No, George sent word that she feels unwell. They think it will be any time now.”
    Somerset felt happy her older sister wasn’t coming. She looked swollen and ponderous the last time Somerset had spoken to her, and Somerset feared each time she saw her that the baby would come, a joyous occasion Somerset hoped to miss, although Blanche would have to leave the function if labor started.
    “Have you seen my journal?” asked Blanche as Somerset turned to go.
    “I saw your account log in the library. Joseph reviewed it. He had some ideas about cutting costs with the poultry. He thinks the cost of feed is highway robbery. I can tell that he wants to mill our own eventually.”
    “No, not the receipt book. I can’t find my personal diary.”
    “I haven’t seen it. I thought you kept it in your room.”
    “So I do,” smiled Blanche. “I probably lost it under a shawl.”
    She continued rifling through the desk.
    Somerset led Ivy into the parlor. Joseph waited there, weak but flushed with excitement for a change. He clutched a folded paper in his left hand and leaned on his cane with his right hand. The impending gathering was already working to distract his mind from the many things he could no longer do.
    “Good evening, Ivy. Somerset.”
    “Good evening, Mr. Forrest,” returned Ivy. She sounded prim.
    “Look at you, clean shaven and bathed during daylight hours,” mocked Somerset.
    She and Joseph had a special bond. Beside her papa, she was the only family member tolerant of his flippant ways. She had always been his pet just as Victoria had always been Theodore’s. Joseph was just abrasive enough with her to let her know that he trusted her enough to be himself, whereas he was sweet to dull Helen and sensitive Victoria.
    “I feel the same as Alexander must have felt when he conquered the Persian Empire.”
    “Oh? If guests at dinner and a platter of fried chicken are all that it takes to make you feel so grand, I can’t imagine how you’ll fare when—“
    “This,” interrupted Joseph, holding his paper out. “This came today and I feel as though I’m a wealthy man again.”
    He laughed aloud.
    “What is it?” asked Somerset.
    “It’s a telegram from Fairlee.”
    “No. Let me see that,” said Somerset.
    “Fairlee?” asked Ivy.
    Somerset took the paper in her hands in disbelief.
    “‘Coming home for visit. Fairlee,’” she read aloud.
    Joseph whooped.
    “If I were physically sound, I pick both of you up and twirl you around!” he proclaimed.
    “Maybe the two of you can finally manage to tie the knot,” said Somerset.
    “You never know,” replied Joseph. “She may take pity on me yet.”
    Ivy turned her back and pretended to examine the oil portrait of Theodore over the doorway. Somerset’s heart went out to her, but she couldn’t utter a word of comfort in front of Joseph.
    Quiet, unassuming Ivy nursed hefty devotion to Joseph, although Somerset couldn’t understand why. Never had she seen two people so incredibly unsuited to one another. Joseph enjoyed rowdy nights out with other men, frequent drinks, and high-spirited