Cardington Crescent by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

knees, and hid her head under the sheet a few moments more. But the longer she stayed, the more thoughts crowded her head. Imagination raced away, giving reality to every threat, every possible misery, till she was drowned with wretchedness. Her head throbbed, her eyes stung, and it was past time she got up. Millicent had already knocked at the door twice; morning tea would be cold. The third time she had to let her in.
    Emily took extra trouble with her appearance, the less she cared the more it mattered. She hated color out of a pot, but it was better than no color at all.
    She was not the last down. Sybilla was absent, and Mrs. March had elected to have breakfast in bed, as had Great-aunt Vespasia.
    “You look well, my dear Emily,” Eustace said briskly. Of course, he was perfectly aware of the situation between George and Sybilla, but deplore it as she must, a well-bred woman bore such things discreetly and affected not to have noticed. He did not approve of Emily, but he would give her the benefit of the doubt unless she made such a charitable view impossible.
    “I am, thank you.” Emily forced herself to be bright, and her irritation made it easier. “I hope you slept well too?”
    “Excellently.” Eustace helped himself with a lavish hand from several of the chafing dishes on the massive carved oak sideboard, set his dish in his place, then went over and threw open the windows, letting in a blast of chill morning air. He breathed in deeply, and then out again. “Excellent,” he said, disregarding everyone else’s shivering as he took his seat at the table. “I always think good health is so important in a woman, don’t you?”
    Emily could think of no reason why it should be particularly, but it seemed to be largely a rhetorical question, and Eustace answered himself. “No man, especially of a good family, wants a sickly wife.”
    “The poor want it even less,” Tassie said bluntly. “It costs a lot to be ill.”
    But Eustace’s pontification was not to be interrupted by something so irrelevant as the poor. He waved his hand gently. “Of course it does, my dear, but then if the poor don’t have children it hardly matters, does it? It is not as if it were a case of succession to a title, of the line, so to speak. Ordinary people don’t need sons in the same way.” He shot a sour look at William. “And preferably more than one—if you wish to see the name continue.”
    George cleared his throat and raised his brows, and his eyes flickered first to Sybilla, then William, and lowered to his plate again. William’s face tightened sharply.
    “Being sickly doesn’t stop them having children,” Tassie argued, spots of color in her cheeks. “I don’t think health is a virtue. It is a good fortune, frequently found among those who are better off.”
    Eustace took a deep breath and let it out, in a noisy expression of impatience. “My dear, you are far too young to know what you are talking about. It is a subject you cannot possibly understand, nor should you. It is indelicate for a girl in your situation, or indeed any well-bred woman. Your mother would never have dreamed of it. But I’m sure Mr. Radley understands.” He smiled across at Jack and received a stare of total incomprehension.
    Tassie bent her head a little lower over her toast and preserves. The pinkness deepened in her face, a reflection of a mixture of frustration at being patronized and embarrassment because her father’s reference to her was obviously infinitely more indelicate than anything she had meant.
    But Eustace was relentless; he pursued the subject obliquely throughout breakfast. To food and health were added delicacy of upbringing, discretion, obedience, an even temper, and the appropriate skills in conversation and household management. The only attribute not touched upon was wealth, and that of course would have been vulgar. And it was a matter of some sensitivity to him; his mother was of a fine family who had