Place of Confinement by Anna Dean Read Free Book Online Page A

extravagantly. ‘I blame myself for it!’ she said, with the air of a woman who blamed everybody but herself. ‘I am too mild and confiding. I declare my friends are always rebuking me for it. But I thought Letitia too sensible to be a prey to ambitious men. And it is a bad thing to be always thwarting the young, is it not? For as the Great Bard says, “youth’s a stuff will not endure.”’
    Mrs Bailey sighed pathetically – very much oppressed by this last melancholy truth. And, feeling, no doubt, that she had now explained and excused herself sufficiently, she turned towards the house.
    Dido fell into a reverie of pity for the absent Miss Verney. She knew Tom Lomax to be extravagant, selfish and quite determined upon making his fortune by marriage. Any young woman who had – through love or folly – placed herself in his power was to be pitied indeed. Concern for the young lady must be her first thought. But it was not long before her mind turned with even greater compassion to the suffering of someone else – someone much dearer.
    Tom’s father would be terribly hurt by the business.

Chapter Six
    As Dido attended her aunt, and prepared herself for church, her mind was full of foreboding. The mystery of Miss Verney’s disappearance touched her more nearly now. Its speedy solution was more necessary than ever, but there was added the need for the right solution. Nobody in Charcombe Manor could now be more determined than Dido to prevent the business being bruited abroad, or more anxious to avoid disgrace and shame.
    Mrs Manners noticed – and strongly resented – her niece’s preoccupation. Dido, she declared, was ‘as dull as a cat’.
    ‘I cannot get two words from you this morning, miss!’ she complained as she was helped from her carriage at the church gate. ‘I am not accustomed to such sulky silence.’
    ‘I am sorry,’ said Dido, hurriedly, as she climbed back into the carriage to retrieve her aunt’s salts and spectacles, shawls, cushions, walking stick and parasol, ‘but I have a great deal on my mind.’
    ‘On your mind! Why, what can you possibly have to worry about?’
    ‘Well,’ Dido began a little breathlessly as she balanced one last cushion upon her burden, tucked two prayer books under her arm, ‘I am worried about—’
    She stopped because her aunt’s attention had now been drawn away by the approach of her brother, Mr George Fenstanton, who bounded up, officiously offering his arm.
    ‘Go away, George!’ Mrs Manners put such an emphasis of hatred into the three words that Dido dropped a cushion. She drew back into the shadows of the carriage and watched Mr George’s face redden. Beyond him she could see the little crowd of parishioners gathered in the sunny churchyard – all eyes turned towards the arrival of the manor party.
    ‘Now then, now then, Selina,’ he whispered, smoothing back his thin white hair and looking about him uncomfortably. ‘We must put a good face on things, you know. People are watching. Take my arm.’
    ‘No.’ Mrs Manners’ voice was low, but firm. ‘You may take my jewels from me, George, but I see no reason to pretend to anyone that I like you. Ah, Lancelot!’ She turned to her nephew as he approached and made a great show of taking his arm, bestowing upon him the privilege of supporting her into the church.
    As Dido stepped slowly from the coach with her burdens she was almost inclined to pity George Fenstanton’s red-cheeked embarrassment, for there was quite a crowd assembled among the grass mounds, mossy stones and daffodils of the churchyard to witness his humiliation.
    The return of the beautiful Selina Fenstanton to her family home would seem to be a matter of great interest to neighbours who had been content to know nothing of her for thirty years. They bustled about her now, eager to see how marriage, time and widowhood had influenced her, and exclaimed that ‘she was not changed at all!’, and that they ‘could scarcely