The Rose of Sebastopol Read Online Free PDF Page B

rough seas wounded soldiers would have a very uncomfortable time. But in summer all will be well.”
    “It must have been so difficult,” said Mother, “when you don’t know the language. Did any of you speak Turkish? What a business it must be, preparing an army. My goodness, I am having difficulties planning a home for fifteen women, let alone tens of thousands.”
    “How is the home, Aunt? ”
    “Oh, we are still as far from opening as ever. I never know what the next difficulty will be. The committee is currently researching the most hygienic type of mattress—we have been offered any number of secondhand beds but I can’t help thinking we must be sure of their provenance.”
    Henry leant forward and took her hands in his. “I tell you what, dear Aunt, we can’t have you worrying about this type of thing. Why don’t you leave me a list of queries and I’ll answer them as best I can. Would that help your committee?”
    We began our tour of the house in the conservatory, where a fluted marble fountain had been installed, although there was as yet no running water. The windows were elaborately arched to allow a view of the garden, which at the moment was little more than a water-logged meadow graced by three enormous elms.
    “Perhaps it was a mistake bringing you here,” Henry said. “In this weather it’s hard to imagine sunny afternoons on the lawn. But I am being asked to think of everything, wallpapers, plantings, pavements, paths, arbors. How can I do it alone? I need help.”
    Mother eyed an array of pattern books and swatches of fabric set out on a broad sill. “Do you know,” she said, “I think I’ll sit by the fire and work my way through these while you and Mariella look at the house. When Philip arrives we’ll come and find you.”
    I was amazed at her for sending us away on our own. Surely she was too guileless to orchestrate a proposal? We watched as she pulled her chair nearer the fire and opened a pattern book. “So, where shall we start?” Henry said, rather too briskly.
    “I’d like to see the turret.”
    “Aha. The turret, my dear Ella, is a flight of fancy on the part of the architect. I hadn’t the heart to curb his enthusiasm. It promises more than it delivers, I think you’ll find, but follow me.”
    I caressed the intricate globes and twists in the newel posts on the stairs and savored the creaking of the unused boards underfoot. When Henry opened the last door, a gust of wind blew it shut behind us. The room had windows on two sides and a peculiar circular bay in one corner which was in fact the turret. “What a shame. I’d hoped for a spiral staircase and a dark little tower room at least,” I said.
    “It’s a very modern turret, I’m afraid, but there’ll be a wonderful view if it ever stops raining. I’m thinking of making this my library. What do you think? And at night I hope to have time for star-gazing.” He moved self-consciously round the room, poked his head up the chimney, and pulled on the picture rail as if testing its firmness.
    “I presume it won’t always smell of plaster,” I said.
    “Paint will be the next thing. I only hope it will be finished by summer. This place takes up so much of my thoughts and time, the sooner I can move in the less of a distraction it will be. And perhaps when it is filled with furniture it will feel less vast and ostentatious.”
    “Hardly ostentatious. You’ve earned every brick of this house. Nobody on earth works harder than you.”
    “But then you would say that. You are too loyal and uncritical.” He came a little closer and smiled at me in the boyish way that quickened my blood.
    Another blast of wind drove raindrops against the glass. He offered his arm, squeezed my fingers, and led me back along the passage. “There are two bathrooms, one for guests, one attached to the main bedroom. I have cold piped water, of course, but the hot is more of a problem. They tried to persuade me to have a geyser but I