The Saint-Germain Chronicles Read Online Free PDF

could not bring her thoughts to bear on any of them. Then she once again fainted, and when she woke she was in her own chamber, her arm was expertly splinted and bound with tape, and her head felt that it was filled with enormous pillows.”
    “And her employer? What of him?” Twilford inquired, caught up now in spite of himself.
    “He visited her the next day, very solicitous of her, and anxious to do what he could to speed her recovery.” Whittenfield paused for a reaction, and got one from Everard.
    “Well, she was his housekeeper. She was of no use to him if she could not work.”
    “He never told her that,” Whittenfield said, gratified that one of his guests had said what he had wanted to hear. “She made note of it in her journal. Finally, after ten days, she got up sufficient courage to say something to the Count, and he reassured her at once that he would prefer she recover completely before returning to her duties. There is an entry then that hints at a more intimate exchange, but the phrases are so vague that it is impossible to tell for sure. Mind, that wasn’t a mealy-mouthed age like this one. If something had passed between them, there would be no reason for her to hide behind metaphors, unless she feared the reproach of her husband later, which I doubt she did. When at last Sir James was released from gaol, he hired on as a mercenary soldier and went east in the pay of the Hapsburgs and nothing is known of his fate. On the other hand, at the end of her three years with her Count, Sabrina came back to England and set herself up in fairly good style. She never remarried but apparently had one or two lovers. Her journal is fairly explicit about them. One was named Richard and had something to do with Norfolk. The other was Henry and was some sort of relative of the Howards.
She is very careful not to be too direct about their identities except in how
they had to do with her. Doubtless Sir James would have gnashed his teeth to
know that his wife ended up doing well for herself. Or he might have liked to
live off her money.”
    “But surely your great-aunt did not become wealthy through the good offices of this Count, did she?” Twilford asked, eyeing his host askance.
    “Probably a bequest. Those Continentals are always settling great amounts of money on their faithful servants. I read of a case not long ago where a butler in France got more than the children…” Lord Graveston stopped in the middle of his words and stared hard at the sixth guest. “No offense intended.”
    “Naturally not,” the sixth guest said.
    “You’re a Count, too, they say?” Dominick inquired unnecessarily.
    The sixth guest favored him with a wry smile and a slight inclination of his head. “That is one of my titles, yes.”
    “Smooth spoken devil, aren’t you?” Dominick challenged, his eyes growing bright.
    “In the manner of my English… acquaintances,” he replied, adding, “If I have erred, perhaps you will be kind enough to instruct me.”
    Everard stifled a laugh and Dominick’s face reddened.
    “Let it alone, Dominick, can’t you?” Twilford said before Dominick could think of another insult to launch at the sixth guest.
    “Get back to Sabrina, Charles, or you’ll have Dominick asking to meet your foreign guest at dawn.” Lord Graveston sounded both disgusted and disappointed.
    “Yes, I will,” Whittenfield said with alacrity. “She had broken her arm and took time to mend, during which time her employer was most solicitous of her health. He saw to it that she was well fed and that her children were cared for so that they did not impose upon their mother. Sabrina was astounded and grateful for this consideration. She had never expected such charity from a stranger. And the more she learned about the Count, the more curious she became. He was without doubt wealthy, and had chosen to live in this poor part of Antwerp so that he would not be put upon by the authorities, she suspected. Yet she