The Homecoming Read Online Free PDF

buttered crab last night perhaps had been too rich.
    But as he walked down the grand staircase and as two footmen leaped to open the front door for him, he found he was still badly shaken.
    His phaeton and horses had been brought round to the front door. He climbed in and picked up the reins. He badly wanted to tell someone what he had seen in the mirror, but winced at the idea of being thought mad.
    There were strange stories about Mannerling being haunted, but he had jeered at all of them.
    He drove slowly down the drive, feeling a certain lightness of heart as he reached the lodge-gates. Instead of going to Lady Evans’s home, he became convinced that it was his duty to call on his aunt and try once more to persuade her to give up her lowly position in the Beverley household.
    Peter found Lizzie in the garden, cutting roses which she laid in a basket on her arm.
    “Oh, Peter!” she cried when she saw him. “You are come. How is it you escaped?”
    “His Grace gave me the day off.”
    “Do step indoors and I will call Miss Trumble. Mama is lying down.”
    “I trust Lady Beverley is not indisposed?”
    Lizzie did not want to say that all her mother’s ailments were imaginary so she said, “Mama has the headache but Miss Trumble has given her something for it. Miss Trumble always manages to make Mama feel better.” She laid the basket of roses on a table in the hall.
    Miss Trumble came down the stairs. “Mr. Bond,” she said, “you are welcome.”
    Peter felt at ease. Not knowing that Miss Trumble was, in fact, the duke’s aunt, he felt on a social level with her.
    “But you must have some refreshment,” said Miss Trumble. “It is such a fine day, it is a pity to waste it indoors. Lizzie, take Mr. Bond to the table in the garden and I will tell the maids to bring tea, and see if Josiah has some of his little scones.”
    Lizzie’s hair was still worn up. She had protested to Miss Trumble that there was no need, surely, to wear her hair up and be gowned in her prettiest dresses when no one came to call, but Miss Trumble said, “I sent a note to Lady Evans. She might call at any time. A lady must always look as if she is expecting callers.”
    Lizzie led the way to the table in the garden under the cedar tree. Peter sat down with a little sigh of pleasure.
    “How fine it is here.”
    Lizzie smiled. “You cannot think it finer than Mannerling.”
    “But I do! I thought you were being fanciful, Lizzie, when you told me about the chandelier, but when you left last week, and I entered the house with my master, the chandelier was turning and there was a brooding air of menace. I pointed it out to the duke but he dismissed it. He felt nothing.”
    “I think he is probably a very insensitive man.”
    “I cannot discuss or criticize my employer, Lizzie.”
    “No, of course you cannot. Here is Miss Trumble. Miss Trumble, you will think me very forward, but I have asked Peter here to call me Lizzie when we are not in company.”
    “Be sure you do not let anyone hear you,” said Miss Trumble reluctantly.
    The two maids came out carrying tea, scones and cakes. Miss Trumble had dismissed them and was just pouring tea when one of the maids came running back, the streamers of her cap flying.
    “Miss Trumble, my lady wishes to see you.”
    Miss Trumble gave a little sigh, but rose obediently to her feet. “I shall leave Lizzie to entertain you, Mr. Bond.”
    “So tell me, Peter,” said Lizzie, “about the duke’s plans to marry. He did tell us that those were his plans, so you will not be out of order in talking about them.”
    “There is something I can tell you in confidence which shows that my master has considered your future.”
    “What can it be?”
    “I have invited several people to come on a visit. His Grace asked me to find a suitable young gentleman for you, Lizzie.”
    “And have you?”
    “Yes, a very pleasant young man. A Mr. Gerald Parkes.”
    Her eyes flashed. “That is very high-handed of