The Lady and the Poet Read Online Free PDF

intoned, her piety slipping to reveal a fissure of malice beneath, ‘if Father found you a husband who demanded obedience and shamefast modesty in his lady.’
    ‘And it would serve
you
right if Father decided he and Constance needed someone to look after them in their ageing years, and that you, the youngest daughter, should forgo the joys of marriage and family and be the one to do it.’
    Frances looked so stricken I had to take pity on her. ‘You do not truly think they would do so?’
    ‘No. Father is too ambitious. He wants good marriages for all of us because his own standing requires it. If we marry not at all or—worse—marry badly then in the world’s eyes all the family is diminished, or so he says. That is why he is so angry with Mary’s husband. With his connections he should have got far. But Nick prefers his own amusement to advancing the family interests.’
    Frances studied me, as if she possessed some valuable piece of information still denied to me, like the cat that had got to the cream first.
    ‘What, Frances? Spit it out or I will pull your cap off and throw it from the window.’
    Frances’ hand went to her head as if to hold her cap in place. ‘I heard Father talking to some old man the other day about his son’s prospects. They mentioned your name also.’
    All of a sudden my heart beat fast, and my mouth was dry with fear.
    ‘Frances! I am sure eavesdropping like some servant at the keyhole is not God’s work. I am surprised at you.’
    Frances looked mutinous. ‘God’s ways are many and various. I thought you would want to know of any marriage negotiations.’
    In spite of myself I asked, ‘And what was this old man’s name?’
    She looked at me with her disconcerting pale blue eyes. ‘I think my father called him Manners.’
    I knew I had to run, to get outside, away from this house which my grandfather had built and which represented, stone by stone, the honour and status of my family.
    ‘Bett is leaving at midday,’ she called to my retreating back. ‘I heard her tell my grandmother so last night. You’d better be back for that.’
    ‘I will.’
    I ran down the back stairs, not towards the open parkland at the front of the house where the revellers from last night might still be sleeping, but towards the moat where the carp swam sleepily amongst the tall reeds. I climbed onto the high wall which separated the kitchen garden from the moat and walked dizzily along it. Everywhere around me nature was breaking forth into leaf and bud and for some strange reason it made me want to weep. I too was tender and green, waiting for the sun to warm me into womanhood, eager and hopeful. Yet I was blessed—or cursed—because though I had passed but fourteen summers, I knew what I did not want.
    And yet all around me told me I had no power, that I had to simply obey and bend my will to my father’s as a dutiful daughter must.
    As if in endorsement of this I hear my sister Frances’ voice, not pious now, but excited and jealous. ‘Ann! Ann!’ she calls. ‘Bett is leaving! And you are to go to London! To be trained for the Court! Our lady aunt has invited you to live with her and Father has accepted!’
    I jumped down from the wall. London and the Court felt like a glittering reprieve from marrying someone I knew not. If I was to go to London the marriage negotiations between my father and this Master Manners’s father must have come to naught. Perhaps he wanted a dowry bigger than my father was ready to provide. I knew from the haranguing over my sisters’ portions and jointures that marriage negotiations could take longer than fitting out a ship to sail to the Indies and were just as risky. They were often long and bitter and broke down in acrimony, even after months of discussion. With luck, the same had happened here.
    Breathlessly I returned with Frances to the house, which was crowded with servants, departing guests and their grooms as well as my sister Bett, her new husband