Maulever Hall by Jane Aiken Hodge Read Free Book Online Page A

that Marianne was reluctant to admit to herself that she was steadily, systematically and quite obviously cheating.
    It was a relief when Andrew appeared and interrupted the session by drawing the curtains against the early dusk, making up the fire, and announcing with lugubrious pleasure that “that child’s been at it again. Cook’s in a proper passion, I can tell you.”
    “Well, don’t,” said Mrs. Mauleverer. “Tell Martha, it’s her business. Miss Lamb and I are busy. No, no, don’t move, Miss Lamb, you must have your revenge.”
    “But should I not see what Thomas has done?”
    “Why? Not still harping on what the vicar said, I hope. Anyone can see he’s no child of yours. Doesn’t care a straw for you; nor you for him. I’m a mother; I should know. How surprised Mark will be when he hears about you! It would be just like him, after leaving me lonely all winter, to come down now to make sure you’re fit company for me. He’s a terrible stickler, is Mark. But no need to look so bothered, my dear, he can’t help but approve of you.”
    Marianne wished she were so sure. Everything his adoring mother said about Mark Mauleverer made him sound more autocratic, bad-tempered, selfish, and unreasonable. She awaited his letter with dread, but found herself, just the same, settling down with amazing ease into the peaceful monotony of life at Maulever Hall. Days slid past placidly, variegated only by Mrs. Mauleverer’s choice of bezique, piquet, or two - handed whist to beat her at. The high point of each was the ceremonial arrival of the mailbag, but every day, as Mrs. Mauleverer unlocked it, Marianne’s fear of an angry letter ordering her expulsion seemed more absurd. She was not, it seemed, worth writing about.
    The weather was improving. She contrived to lure Mrs. Mauleverer out to walk with her down the drive to where she had found the first snowdrops and was congratulated by Gibbs on her achievement: “She’s looking so much better, you’d hardly believe ... and so are you, miss. I’d hardly know you for the waif mistress brought home that night.”
    A waif. It was all she was: homeless, rootless, and still, sometimes, in terror. She pushed the thought aside, and ran downstairs to find Mrs. Mauleverer unlocking the mailbag, which had just arrived from the village.
    “Look!” She greeted Marianne eagerly. “It’s come at last. Now let’s see what he has to say about you.” She opened the letter, exclaiming, “A double one, too; there’s a compliment for you.” And then, on quite a different note: “Oh, how dreadful. Oh, my poor Mark, what a disaster! And the poor child too! Oh dear, I’ll never look forward to a letter again—and he says nothing about you, my dear, after all—well, no wonder. What a terrible thing ... we must have the chimneys swept at once. Oh the poor dear little baby—and he says he must start North at once, so there go my hopes of a visit. Well, maybe that’s just as well; we’d never agree about it. I know he thinks it a terrible misfortune, but I confess for my part if it were not for the disastrous way it had happened, I should be inclined quite to like it. After all, a title is a title. Of course it’s true, as Mark always says, that there have been Mauleverers at Maulever Hall since Doomsday Book, while some of our peers—well, you know as well as I do that they get made for the oddest reasons. But just the same, if he did not mind it so terribly, I should quite like the idea of Mark’s being Lord Heverdon. But ring the bell, will you? I must give orders at once about the chimneys.”
    Marianne rose obediently from her chair, but hesitated for a moment. “My dear madam, I must beg that you will explain yourself. I am quite devoured with curiosity.”
    Incorrigibly, Mrs. Mauleverer’s eyes now sparkled with delight. Gifted with an insatiable passion for gossip, it was not often that she had such a story to tell. “Why”—she picked up the letter again and