The Storms of War Read Online Free PDF

pleasant evening.’ She heard the sarcasm in his voice as he turned. She stood next to Thompson and watched Tom run across the lawn to the side exit in the hedge.
I hate Sir Hugh Bradshaw!
she wanted to cry, so loud that the noise bounced around the fountain, echoed as far as the back of the garden.
    ‘What was that you said, miss?’ Thompson asked.
    ‘Nothing. You go inside. I will come in one minute.’ The windows at the back glittered hard, shining out over the ivy that was already creeping past.

THREE
    ‘I have an announcement,’ Rudolf had declared. They had been eating fish in puffed pastry around the heavy table in their Hampstead dining room, five years previously. Celia had been allowed to stay up late to dinner, even though she was only ten. ‘I have found us a Jacobean house in Hampshire. In fact, I have told the owner, Lady Lenley, that I wish to buy it.’
    Verena dropped her fork. Emmeline shrieked.
    ‘Stoneythorpe Hall is in a beautiful … spot,’ Rudolf continued, his words faltering in his excitement. ‘It is the house I have always dreamed of. We will be lords and ladies of the manor.’
    ‘I don’t want to leave London!’ said Emmeline, her handsome face pale in the fog of the table light.
    ‘You will once you see it, dear. I promise.’
    ‘We will never be lords of the manor,’ said Arthur from the corner. ‘We’ll never be anything other than meat sellers.’
    ‘Better a meat seller than a gambling wastrel.’ Rudolf patted his stomach. ‘People like that can no longer afford such a house.’
    ‘I thought these houses never came on the market. I thought you said you were never going to succeed!’ said Emmeline, casting an angry glance at Verena. Rudolf had been searching for a manor house for nearly three years. He had contacted agents in Surrey, Hampshire, Berkshire and Kent, but they always declared they had nothing to sell.
    ‘Stoneythorpe is different. Lady Lenley, the widow of the lord, has no children – and there are none in the extended family who could inherit. The sale will be a quiet one as she does not wish to attract publicity. She desires to meet us first, to decide if she feels able to accept my offer.’
    ‘But—’ Verena began.
    ‘I have invited Lady Lenley to tea,’ said Rudolf, firmly. ‘Three o’clock. I expect us all to be there.’
    Lady Lenley did not look to Celia like a lady at all. She was small and bent, dressed in black, her nervous eyes sunk deep into her face. She huddled in the chair and clutched the cup of tea proffered by Violet, the parlourmaid. Rudolf asked her about her journey and she answered in a quavering whisper, as if the very act of speech caused her pain. Rudolf had told Michael and Emmeline to remain silent, and Celia was too young to speak at any visit. Arthur had refused to attend, lolloped out, thin and long-legged, to see a friend from school. Rudolf conducted the conversation; Verena sat beside him, her face stoically composed.
    ‘Do you often come to London?’ asked Rudolf.
    Lady Lenley’s face creased with terror. She shook her head.
    ‘You prefer to stay in Hampshire?’
    She nodded and looked at her hands, folded in her lap.
    ‘I thought it a most handsome village. The houses are most excellently kept.’
    Lady Lenley looked up and blinked a little, then dropped her gaze.
    ‘The church must be very old,’ he tried once more.
    She nodded. Silence descended. Violet offered biscuits. Lady Lenley fiddled with her skirt. Michael made a comment about stained glass. No one answered. Verena offered a few words about the village school. Celia watched her father’s face redden as he continued to attempt to make conversation, and every attempt failed. Finally, when it seemed to Celia as if there could be nothing more to say, Lady Lenley looked up at Rudolf. ‘I am very fond of the garden,’ she whispered. ‘I have always loved it.’
    ‘But of course, Lady Lenley,’ said Rudolf. ‘My wife is very fond of gardening