The Landower Legacy Read Online Free PDF

giggled and said: “I believe that to be incorrect. They were made by Mr. Mason.”
    “Fortnum or Mason, what matters it?”
    I laughed immoderately because I knew that Fortnum and Mason was a shop in Piccadilly, and Captain Carmichael meant he had bought the biscuits from them.
    “I will come and help you with the lemonade,” said my mother.
    I was astonished. The idea of her getting anything was so surprising. At home she would ring if she wanted a cushion for her chair.
    They went out together. Olivia looked a little dismayed.
    “It’s exciting,” I said.
    “Why did we come here? I thought we were going to the Ponsonbys’. And what does he mean about his cooks? Fortnum and Mason is a shop.”
    “Oh, Olivia,” I said, “you are so solemn. This is going to be fun.”
    They were quite a long time coming with the lemonade and when they did, my mother had removed her hat. She looked flushed but very much at home, and she made a great show of pouring out the lemonade.
    “Luncheon will be served later,” said Captain Carmichael.
    I can still remember every moment of that day. There was a certain magic about it, a certain feeling of waiting, like the moment in the theatre when the curtain is about to go up and one is not quite sure what is going to be revealed. But I might have thought that afterwards in view of everything that happened, as one is inclined to do, looking back on important days in one’s life, imagining they were pregnant with foreboding … no, hardly foreboding. I felt nothing of that, only a tremendous excitement, as though something really important was going to happen.
    There came the great moment when we could hear the approaching procession. I loved the Handel march; it seemed most appropriate; and there she was—a rather disappointing little figure and yes, in a bonnet. True, it was a rather special bonnet, made of lace and sparkling with diamonds, but nevertheless a bonnet. The cheers were deafening, and she sat there acknowledging them now and then with a lift of her hand, not so appreciative as I thought she might have been of this show of excessive loyalty. But it was a wonderful sight. Her carriage was preceded by the Princes of her own House—her sons, sons-in-law and grandsons. I counted them. There were seventeen in all; and the most grand among them was the Queen’s son-in-law, Crown Prince Fritz of Prussia, clad in white and silver with the German Eagle on his helmet.
    There was procession after procession. I was thrilled by the sight of the Indian Princes in their magnificent robes sparkling with jewels. There were among them envoys from Europe, four Kings—those of Saxony, Belgium, Denmark and the Hellenes; and Greece, Portugal, Sweden and Austria—like Prussia—had sent their Crown Princes.
    The whole world, it seemed on that day, was determined to pay homage to the little old lady in her lace and diamond bonnet, who had reigned for fifty years.
    Even when the procession had passed, I still felt dazed by the spectacle; the music was still ringing in my ears, and I could still see the magnificently caparisoned horses and their brilliant riders while my mother disappeared with the Captain, having mentioned something about luncheon.
    The Captain wheeled in a trolley on which was cold chicken, some crusty bread and a dish of butter.
    He brought a little table to the window. There was just room for the four of us to sit at it. Deftly he covered it with a lacy cloth.
    What a luncheon that was! Later I thought it was like the end of an era, the end of innocence. That delicious cold chicken was like tasting the tree of knowledge.
    The Captain opened a bottle which had been standing in a bucket of ice, and he produced four glasses.
    “Do you think they should?” asked my mother.
    “Just a thimbleful.”
    The thimblefuls were half glasses. I sipped the fuzzy liquid in ecstasy, and felt intoxicated with a very special sort of happiness. The world seemed wonderful and I envisioned