The Whispering Rocks Read Online Free PDF

her!
    A protective shell seemed to cocoon Sarah. The death of Ralph Jameson had set the whole house humming, but to her it was all dull and distant. Inside her little shell she was private, alone and undisturbed. She fully expected to be sent away, and was reconciled to the fact—and nothing on God’s earth would allow her to give Hermione the satisfaction of seeing her weep.
    And so she sat there, staring at her hands, looking so demure, so pretty, and so utterly unlike Hermione in every way that Sir Peter found himself glancing at her with pride. Begad, she would have been a credit to his name. If she could have been presented at Almack’s she would have been made—made!
    The door opened and in sauntered Edward. Hermione closed her eyes faintly, wondering if her son had any sense at all. He was clad in a riding jacket of quite exaggerated cut and made of surely the finest and brightest lilac velvet in the land. Reeking of perfume he glanced beamingly around the room, banging his shiny top hat against his thigh, and slowly sat down in a chair, arranging himself perfectly. Even Hermione stared at his trousers, for they were of the latest style, called cossacks, and his were the fullest, baggiest cossacks she had ever seen, gathered in at his ankles by brilliant scarlet ribbons.
    Edward’s smile was superior. Here I am, he seemed to be saying; you are back to me, Uncle, and this time I shall do as I like, lead my own life, marry where I please! Sarah looked at him with amusement. Had he thumbed his nose at Sir Peter he could not have been more obvious.
    Stratford’s face was suffusing dramatically, and Hermione was alarmed. Oh, Edward, Edward, you foolish boy. The older man stepped from behind his desk, clasping and unclasping his shaking hands behind his back, and came to stand before his nephew. Edward had gone so far as to place his long legs upon his uncle’s priceless desk and the heels of his shoes were marking the polished surface. Quite suddenly and without warning, Stratford threw his nephew’s offending legs aside and Edward sat up with a jerk, his mouth open with surprise, his face slightly comical.
    “I say, Uncle!”
    “Behave yourself under my roof, you young pup. You may act as you please only when you are the master here!”
    Hermione did not trust herself to speak. She knew that Stratford could not abide her, so tactfully decided to leave her floundering son to fend for himself.
    With mouth wide open, Edward glanced at his mother for assistance, but she was obviously going to remain silent.
    Stratford turned to Sarah suddenly. “Well, girl? What have you to say for yourself? You’ve made me the laughingstock of the district and I don’t like to wear a fool’s garb. Which gentlemen did you honor with your company in the woods yesterday? Eh?”
    There was relief on Edward’s face as his uncle’s attention was directed elsewhere. He fiddled petulantly with his top hat.
    Sarah roused herself and looked up at her father. “If you hope that I’ll deny everything, then I’m afraid that I’ll disappoint you, Father. I was there, with Mr. Jameson, and then later with Mr. Holland.” There was little point in her denying anything, for the truth would out sooner or later.
    Hermione swelled up visibly. There! She was condemned with her own words! A sleek smile spread across Hermione’s lips and her little eyes glittered like diamonds.
    Stratford sensed his sister-in-law’s reaction and swung around sharply. Her gloating ceased instantly and her face became a blank. He turned back to his daughter. “Why?”
    “Does it matter? Surely the mere fact that I was there is sufficient.”
    “It matters, for I would know the complete truth. Which one had you gone to meet?”
    “Mr. Jameson.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I liked him. He was kind and friendly, and was the only one I’d met since coming here who spoke gently to me. He sent a note to me, asking me to meet him, and after a lot of hesitation I