Pendragon by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online

gentlemen, and each he discussed with Meggie. If any had interested her, then he would have sent the young man she’d selected to go see Tysen, but Meggie just shook her head when he presented them to her.
    â€œLord Marcham’s son, Lancelot, is quite unexceptionable, Meggie, and appears quite taken with you. He really cannot help his unfortunate name.”
    â€œNo, thank you, Uncle Douglas,” she said, and that was that, similar words used to decline each of the other offers.
    Douglas wrote to Tysen and Mary Rose at least once a week, his early letters filled with Meggie’s successes, then they were filled with Meggie’s disinterest in any of the gentlemen who praised her very nice Sherbrooke blue eyes, her lovely Sherbrooke hair, her somewhat distracted wit.
    Reverend Tysen and Mary Rose arrived in London the final week of May, both of them very worried.
    Meggie leaned against her father, felt his hands lightly stroking her back, up and down, and it felt so very comforting, and she whispered against his neck, “Please, Papa, I want to go home.”
    He loosed his hold and held her in the circle of his arms. “You met a man who did not return your affections. I’m very sorry about that.” That was all he said, nothing more, and Meggie wondered how he could know. She prayed he wouldn’t ever find out which man she’d wanted who didn’t want her.
    â€œPerhaps so,” she said. “Papa, I want to go home.”
    â€œAll right, love. Let us show Mary Rose some of the sights, just a week—she loves the theatre, you know—and then we will go home.”
    On June second the Sherbrookes returned to Glenclose-on-Rowan to the vicarage.
    In October every Sherbrooke in England traveled to Eagle’s Chase, in Somerset, the Beresfords’ country estate, to attend the wedding of Charlotte Beresford and Jeremy Stanton-Greville.
    It was carried off in grand style. Every Beloved One was there, and to everyone’s amusement, all fifteen of the children applauded when the vicar said Jeremy could kiss his bride.

5
    March 1824
    Glenclose-on-Rowen
    M EGGIE SHERBROOKE WALKED out of the church in the wake of her stepmother, Mary Rose Sherbrooke, Alec on her left side and Rory on her right side, holding her hand. She pulled him back so they could take their place in the vicar’s receiving line. Rory’s little arm was dry, his face flushed with joy and health, thank God. Just his hands were sticky.
    It was a difficult time for the town. Three children had died of a fever during the past week, the cause unknown, and all three funerals had taken place at the same time, three days before. Tysen had spent a great deal of his time with the grieving parents. And today, Sunday morning, every parent was worried sick. They’d all come to church today because they needed reassurance. Her father’s sermon had been both moving and practical, which had brought every parent in the congregation a measure of peace and a sense of control, which was desperately needed.
    He’d said in his deep, reaching voice, “I know that all of you are afraid that your own children will be struck down. I know that I look at my own boys and pray devoutly that God will spare them. Then I realized that I amnot helpless in this, that God has given me a brain and good measure of common sense and the determination to face what I must. Naturally I, as well as you, want to guard my children as best I can. I have spoken at length with Dr. Dreyfus. He believes that we must all be vigilant, that the fever could strike again. He wants us all to keep our children at home during this next week, keep them warm and calm and quiet. They will probably grow bored and you will want to strangle them, but you must endure.” He smiled as there was a bit of laughter from his congregation. “I would only add that we must pray to God that it will be enough.
    â€œGod has given us all the strength,