The Demon Lover Read Online Free PDF Page A

gave her away, the vicar performed the ceremony and afterwards we had a reception for her at Collison House with just a few friends and neighbours. Later that day the bride and bridegroom left on the first lap of their journey to Africa.
    Clare quickly fitted into the household. She devoted herself to us with such assiduous care and determination to please that if she were not quite Evie and we had convinced ourselves that nobody could be that-she was undoubtedly the next best thing.
    She was extremely gentle and easy to get along with, which made us realize that, wonderful as Evie had been, she could at times imply a little criticism to those who did not conform to her own high standards which of course none of us did.
    Perhaps the house was not quite so well cared for. Perhaps the servants were not quite so prompt to answer our calls, and there was certainly an easing of discipline; but we were soon all very fond of Clare and delighted that she had come.
    My father commented: “I think perhaps that although we like the effect of highly powered efficiency we feel ourselves unable to compete with it and a little slackness gives us a self-congratulatory glow of comfort.”
    And I agreed with him.
    Clare made friends quickly and seemed to get on particularly well with the Camborne twins. My father was quite amused. He said that Faith was beginning to look to Clare almost as much as she did to Hope.
    “Two rocks to cling to now,” he commented.
    Clare began to show a great respect for our work and asked my father if she might see his collection of miniatures, which delighted him. It was a considerable collection. It was mainly Collisons, but he did have a Hilliard and two Isaac Olivers, which I thought were even better than the Hilliard though possibly of not the same market value.
    One of his greatest treasures was a small miniature by the French artist, Jean Pucelle, who had been a leading member of a group of miniaturists at the Court of Burgundy in Paris during the fourteenth century. My father used to say that this collection was our fortune.
    Not that he would ever think of selling one piece. They had been in the family for generations and there they must stay.
    Clare’s brown eyes shone with pleasure as she surveyed these treasures and my father explained to her the differences in tempera and gouache.
    Even Evie had not understood about the paintings and secretly I believe had had a faint contempt for such work. But for the fact that my father earned a living by doing it I am sure she would have dismissed it as a rather frivolous occupation.
    But Clare really did have a feeling for paint and admitted that she had tried her hand at a little oil painting.
    It was clear that Clare was going to be a very successful addition to our household. The servants liked her; she was less definite than Evie but that could mean that she was not didactic and domineering.
    There was about Clare a certain femininity which made people feel the need to be gentle with her. The servants sensed this and whereas they might have been resentful of a housekeeper-which I suppose in a way she was they all helped Clare to step into Evie’s shoes.
    And that was what she did. She was different; she was gentler; and if she lacked that complete efficiency which we had found in Evie, we were prepared to accept something less from one who was so eager to please.
    After a while she began to confide in me and when she talked about her mother she would be overcome with emotion.
    “I loved her dearly,” she said.
    “She was my life because I had looked after her through her illness. Oh, Kate, I hope you never have to see one you love suffer. It is heartrending. There were years of it…”
    I knew she had an elder sister who had married and gone abroad and that her father had died when Clare was quite a child. It seemed that her mother had dominated her life, and that it had been a hard life I had no doubt. She had done a little painting herself, so she