The Landower Legacy Read Online Free PDF Page A

with flounced skirts, decorous bodices and sleeves to the elbow. We wore long white stockings and black boots, and carried white gloves, and each of us had a straw hat, mine bearing a green ribbon and Olivia’s crushed strawberry.
    We felt very smart. But when we saw our mother we realized how insignificant we were beside her splendour. She looked every bit the “beautiful Mrs. Tressidor.” She wore pink, a favourite colour of hers and one which was most becoming. The skirt of her dress was full and flounced and so draped to call attention to a waist, which in that age of small waists, was remarkable. The tightly fitting bodice further accentuated the charm of her figure; she wore a pale cream fichu at the neck which matched the lace at the cuffs of her sleeves. Her hat was the same mingling shades of cream and pink and perched jauntily on the top of her magnificent hair, while its cream-coloured ostrich feather fell over the brim and reached almost to her eyes as though to call attention to their sparkle. She looked young and excited and we all set off in a fever of anticipation.
    The carriage was waiting for us, and Olivia and I sat one on either side of her as we rode out of the square.
    The horses trotted along for a while and my mother suddenly called to the driver: “Blain, I want you to go to Waterloo Place.”
    Blain turned in surprise as though he had not heard correctly. “But, Madam …” he began.
    She smiled sweetly. “I’ve changed my mind. Waterloo Place.”
    “Very good, Madam,” said Blain.
    “Mama,” I cried, “are we not going to Lady Ponsonby’s?”
    “No, dear. We are going somewhere else instead.”
    “But everyone said …”
    “Plans are changed. I think you will like this place better.”
    Her eyes were brimming with mischief and an excitement gripped me. I had an inspiration. I had seen that look in her eyes before, and it recalled a certain person who, I believed, had put it there.
    “Mama,” I said thoughtfully, “are we going to see Captain Carmichael?”
    Her cheeks turned pink, which made her prettier than ever.
    “Why? Whatever made you say that?”
    “I just wondered … because …”
    “Because what?”
    “Does he live in Waterloo Place?”
    “Close by.”
    “So it is …”
    “We shall get a better view there.”
    I sat back in my seat. Something had been added to the day.
    He was waiting to greet us, clearly expecting us. I thought it rather odd that we should have set out as for the Ponsonbys’ when this must have been arranged the evening before.
    However, I was too excited to think much about it. We were here and that was all that mattered.
    Captain Carmichael’s rooms were small compared with ours, but there was a lovable disorder about them which I immediately sensed.
    “Welcome!” he cried. “My lovely ladies, welcome all.”
    I liked being referred to as a lovely lady, but it clearly embarrassed Olivia, who was perfectly sure that the description did not fit her.
    “You are in good time,” he went on.
    “Which is absolutely necessary if we were to get here,” said my mother. “These streets will be closed to traffic soon.”
    “The procession will pass this way on the outward journey to the Abbey,” he said, “but you will not be able to leave until after it has returned, which pleases me very much, since it will give me more of the most delightful company I know. Now let me show my beauteous ladies the seating accommodation, and I expect the girls would like to watch what is going on in the streets.”
    He led us to chairs in the window from which we had a good view of Waterloo Place.
    “The route will be from the Palace through Constitution Hill, Piccadilly, Waterloo Place and Parliament Street to the Abbey, so you are in a good position. Now I daresay you would like some refreshment. I have some very special lemonade for you young people and some little biscuits to go with it—a speciality made for me by my cook, Mr. Fortnum.”
    My mother