The Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

seriously. ‘I think that with you and your elder sisters, a combination of common sense and love prevailed. Yes, love defeated Mannerling on each count.’
    ‘It is unusual to find love in a society marriage.’ Abigail heaved another little sigh. ‘Perhaps there will be no great love for Belinda. She will marry Saint Clair, get Mannerling, have children, and settle for that.’
    ‘Mannerling might have other ideas. That is a fickle, evil house.’
    ‘My sensible Miss Trumble! What has happened to you? Mannerling is not a person and does not have feelings.’
    ‘I am not superstitious, and yet…and yet there is something about that place—malignancy seems to seep from the very walls. It may take a dislike to Saint Clair.’
    Abigail looked at the old governess uneasily. ‘I think, dear Miss Trumble, that you have been in contact for too long with the Beverley obsession. It is only a house—bricks and slatesand paint. Nothing else.’
    *      *      *
    The Honourable Peregrine Vane sat slumped against the squabs in a corner of the travelling-carriage supplied by his uncle, Earl Durbridge, as it turned in at the gates of Mannerling.
    He bitterly resented being sent to see the place when that job should be performed by the new owner, Lord St. Clair. Peregrine detested Lord St. Clair. That young man was everything he despised—foppish and empty-headed. In truth Peregrine was bitterly jealous of his cousin, but jealous people are always in competition with the object of their jealousy.
    The carriage lurched to a stop. A footman let down the steps. Peregrine climbed wearily down and walked under the porticoed entrance and so into the great hall.
    He stood silently for a moment, looking around and then up at the great glittering chandelier and then to the painted ceilings, where gods and goddesses rioted in classic immorality. The air smelled sweetly of wood fires, beeswax, and roses. He felt a great atmosphere of peace and love that seemed to emanate from the very walls.
    Feeling strangely like a child coming home from a rather brutal school, he stood drinking in that peace.
    ‘This way, sir,’ said a voice at his elbow.
    He turned to find an elderly housekeeper standing there. The previous housekeeper had been sacked for drunkenness, but that he did not know. This one was grey-haired, motherly, and just as she should be in black bombazine gown and starched white cap with a ring of keys clinking at her waist. ‘I am Mrs. Muir, sir,’ she said. ‘The servants have taken your bags to your room.’
    Peregrine smiled. Although he was a fairly handsome man with square regular features and a neat figure, he did not often smile. ‘I think I would like some refreshment first if I may,’ he said.
    ‘Very well, sir. The day is chilly and there is a fire in the Green Saloon.’
    He followed her up the stairs. A chain of saloons lay on the first floor, where in the grand days of Mannerling balls had been held. The Green Saloon was large and magnificent. A bright fire crackled in the hearth. Peregrine walked to the fire and said over his shoulder, ‘Some claret, I think.’
    When the housekeeper had left, he studied his reflection in the glass over the fireplace. It seemed to him that he had grown in stature. He sank down in a comfortable armchair by the fire and stared dreamily into the flames. A footman appeared shortly with a glass, a decanter of claret, and some thin ham sandwiches on a tray.
    The claret was excellent and the ham wasWestphalian. Peregrine stretched out his booted legs.
    But gradually as he drank and stared about him, the feeling of peace began to leave him. This should be mine, he thought furiously. Why should a churl, a man-milliner like Toby St. Clair, have all this when he does not even want it?
    And then he began to remember remarks Earl Durbridge had made. ‘I’ve a good mind to disinherit that boy, Perry. Yes, any more of his japes and roistering and I will do just that. But