My Dearest Enemy by Connie Brockway Read Free Book Online Page A

those terrible women in their mannish outfits," Evelyn said with distaste and then after a quick glance at Lily's own bloomers added, "not that you look anything less than charming in your… those… that garment. Few women have your panache, dear."
    "Thank you," Lily said. She was quite aware of how Evelyn viewed her clothing.
    "It's not their clothing alone I object to," Evelyn went on. "I simply do not think they are the proper sorts of people for you to mingle with, Lil."
    Lily stared. Evelyn occasionally surprised her with her unexpected impulses to mother her.
    "I agree," Francesca declared, surprising Lily even more. "That Makepeace woman uses you shamelessly, Lily. She's jealous of you. You have all the attributes of a leader and she has none."
    Disconcerted by Francesca's remarks, she nonetheless found them terribly sweet. And terribly unnecessary. Though Polly Makepeace did make use of her, Lily thought it was a small enough price to pay to salve her conscience. Managing the estate had consumed her attention for four years, years she could have been using to promote the equality of women. Lily considered her words carefully. She wouldn't hurt either woman for the world.
    "Pshaw. I hardly threaten Polly Makepeace's designs to become the Coalition chairwoman. I'm barely involved in the organization anymore, much to my shame. All my time is taken up with the demands of Mill House."
    "But to have her in our
home
, Lily! What do we really know about her?" Evelyn asked. "Or these others. They might not be nice people, dear. Who knows where they come from?"
    Lily sighed. "Darlings, if you don't want them here, by all means say so. But if your only objection is their suspect antecedents, I'm afraid polite company would consider me far more likely to taint then to be tainted."
    "Oh, don't ever say that!" Evelyn exclaimed in horror. "We love you, Lily. I don't know what we'd do without you. You've made this house so comfortable, a relaxed home."
    "I think the word you want is 'lax' not 'relaxed,' " Lily answered. Evelyn seemed to have experienced the last four years of Lily's proprietorship as one unending girls' slumber party. "And it is not me who makes Mill House a home, darling, it is you. Once the five years is up," Lily went on, striving for a calm expression, "I'll have to leave here."
    "But why?" Evelyn cried. Francesca sipped her tea, her expression unusually grave.
    "If I lose, I doubt whether Mr. Thorne will ask me to stay on." The very notion brought a wry smile to her lips. "And if I win, I cannot afford to maintain the farm. It needs an influx of cash which I do not have. I'll have to sell it."
    Lily carefully hid her anguish. She loved Evelyn and Francesca and she loved Mill House. She loved its bright, warm kitchen and its silent dust-shrouded bedchambers. She loved its unlikely ballroom and the incongruous stained-glass window hiding beneath the third floor eaves. She loved the ducks squabbling on the pond, the fat stupid-looking sheep that stared at her as she walked down the alley each morning, and her broken-down race horses.
    Evelyn sniffed. "There must be some way."
    "We'll worry about it when the time comes," Lily reassured her. "Look. A letter from Bernard. Here, Evie."
    Now twelve, Bernard had reached that stage in life where a boy tries on adulthood for size. In Bernard's case it wasn't fitting too well. Though exceptionally tall for his age, he didn't weigh more than he had when he was six inches shorter. His skin was getting blotchy and his voice broke at the most disconcerting moments.
    "What does he say?" Francesca asked.
    Evelyn scanned the sheet. "He says he's coming to Mill House early this summer."
    "He's been well?" Lily asked, trying to keep the worry from her voice. She couldn't imagine those heartless old goats allowing the boy to leave school early without a pressing reason.
    "He assures me it's nothing serious. He's simply convinced the headmaster that an additional few weeks of rest