The Sleeping Sword Read Online Free PDF Page A

Galton Abbey. All three of the Chard bishops knew her. The Chard generals and colonels had served in the same regiment or played cards at the same clubs as her father; the Duke of South Erin had shot grouse over her moor at Galton many a time. And if these gentlemen were inclined to take a broader, easier view than Culllingford, she remained nevertheless a woman who did not appear to lead a regular life, who might be socially very dangerous, or very interesting, to know; who could, in fact, be approached with a familiarity and with an intent no man would permit himself with a lady who was known to reside safely in her matrimonial home.
    And, of course, it was the uncertainty which everyone found so intriguing and so maddening. Were the Nicholas Barforths separated or were they not? Did she live in the country for her health, as had once or twice been hinted, or was that just a part of the charade they were playing to make things look right; so that their conflict might not damage their unmarried and consequently very vulnerable daughter? Had Mr. Nicholas Barforth banished his wife from his hearth and home unable to support her aristocratic freedom of manner, which had never been greatly to the liking of Cullingford in any case? Or had she fled away from him in protest at his money-grubbing, middle-class ways? Had there been misconduct, which in Cullingford could be taken to mean adultery, and if so whose adultery, when, with whom?
    Mrs. Rawnsley of Rawnsley’s Bank felt certain that there had been cruelty and adultery on the gentleman’s part which the lady had probably deserved. Mrs. Sheldon, the devoted wife of Mr. Thomas Sheldon MP tended, without actually saying so, to take the deserted husband’s part since the wife, as a woman, had no vote and could therefore be no serious loss to Mr. Sheldon at election time. Miss Fielding, the spinster daughter of our other now very elderly MP condemned no one, such an attitude being contrary to her Christian principles, although having done her own duty unstintingly all her life she was bound to feel that Mrs. Georgiana Barforth, by this desertion of her husband and her home, had lamentably failed in hers. And the rest of Cullingford, sifting through these divers views, concluded that, like everything else of importance in the Law Valley, it had simply been a matter of money.
    Mrs. Barforth had been well-bred but extremely poor. Mr. Nicholas Barforth had been common, as Cullingford itself was common beneath its prosperous veneer, but extremely rich. ‘She got what she came for and then she left,’ Cullingford gleefully pronounced, finding it pleasantly ironic that Mr. Nicholas Barforth who used his money so ruthlessly to manipulate others should have been so blatantly married for it.
    Yet whatever the true facts of the matter, Mr. Barforth had retained the power to call his elusive lady to his side whenever it suited him, producing her annually at the Christmas concerts in the Memorial Hall, escorting her, always splendidly dressed, to the anniversary dinner of Cullingford’s Charter, the gala opening of a new hotel, a fashionable wedding, so that no one, however inventive or malicious, could ever be sure.
    But to Venetia’s frank and eager nature these parental deceits were insupportable and I heard the sharp intake of her breath, saw how painfully she bit her lip, as she watched her mother get down from the Barforth carriage and take her father’s arm.
    â€˜I told her not to come,’ she whispered, ‘for she cannot bear to see these Cullingford hens cackling and staring whenever she shows herself. I told her I wouldn’t come, in her place. She just smiled and said that at my age she wouldn’t have come either. And I can’t tell you how much that startled me—to think she was once like me and has lost her nerve. How terrible.’
    She came slowly across the grass, her hand still on her husband’s arm, trailing her