The Danbury Scandals Read Online Free PDF Page A

Can’t I stay at the rectory,
where I can make myself useful? The Reverend...’
    ‘The rector is
not expecting you back, Maryanne, not now you have been recognised by Her
Grace. Your old life is behind you and a new one ahead. Do you not like the
idea of living with us?’
    ‘You are a very
kind man, I know that, and it is not ingratitude which makes me reluctant...’
    ‘You are not
sure how you will go on, is that it?’ His gentle features broke into a smile
and he patted the hand he held. ‘Have no fear, my dear, you will deal admirably
with them all, I guarantee it.’
    Not until she
moved into Beckford Hall, smaller than Castle Cedars but nevertheless a
substantial residence, did Maryanne realise quite what the changes to her way
of life would mean to her. She could no longer teach at Sunday school, she had
to give up her classes for the local boys, and, when she went sick visiting,
instead of the warm, homely atmosphere she had always encountered before, she
was greeted with uncomfortable stiffness. Worst of all, she could no longer
enjoy solitary walks across the downs. The luxuries of her new position did not
compensate for the restrictions on her freedom. She found herself almost
envying the gypsies who camped on the downs.
    They reminded
her of the man who called himself Jack Daw. She had not seen him since that day
at Castle Cedars and she assumed that whatever had brought him to Hampshire had
taken him away again. It was extraordinary that the two places she had
encountered him had both been on Danbury land and yet a good fifteen miles
apart. Ought she to have told his lordship about him? If he was French, was he
an émigré, son of an aristocrat who had fled the Revolution, or was he a
Bonapartist, a prisoner of war, or a spy? But the war had been over since the
beginning of April; there was no longer any need for him to hide.
    Ever since the
news had broken, the whole country had been celebrating. The flags of the
Bourbons flew on every building and hawkers selling fleurs-de-lis and
white cockades were doing a roaring trade, and wherever crowds gathered there
were pie sellers and peddlers of ballads and news sheets, which told of the
last days of Napoleon’s reign. Marshal Marmont, left behind to defend Paris
while Boney himself went to make a last attempt to repel his enemies, had
surrendered the capital to the victorious Prussian troops, and not even
Napoleon’s faithful generals would continue fighting after that. Their Emperor
had abdicated and agreed to retire to the island of Elba with an army of fewer
than a thousand men and a navy which consisted of a single frigate. The news
had arrived in England a few days later, almost before it could reach the Duke
of Wellington, down in the south of France, preparing to take Toulouse.
    There were
balls and receptions everywhere in honour of this or that dignitary or valiant
officer, and in London Louis, restored to the throne of France, held a levee at
Grillons, to which everyone of importance was invited.
    Hearing all
this, nothing would satisfy Caroline but they must bring forward the date of
their removal to London, so as not to miss a single minute. ‘King Louis is
bound to leave for Paris soon,’ she said after supper one evening, when her
father and Mark joined the girls in the drawing-room. ‘Wellington is there
already and, unless I miss my guess, half the world will follow suit.’
    ‘If you mean
the aristos , who think they can walk back on to their estates and take
up their old privileges, just as if nothing had happened, they are no loss,’
Mark said.
    ‘I was not
referring to them. I mean the haut monde . Paris will be fashionable
again, you see.’
    ‘There will be
plenty of young bloods left behind,’ her father said. ‘I’ll wager London will
be in an uproar the whole summer long.’
    Caroline
pouted. ‘I want to go now. What is there to keep us here? Nothing ever happens
in Beckford.’
    His lordship
smiled at Maryanne, who was