Songs of Love and War by Santa Montefiore Read Free Book Online Page A

back she caught eyes with him again as he tossed her another furtive glance over his shoulder.
    The church of St Patrick was almost full. Here the aristocracy came together with the ordinary working-class Protestants – shopkeepers, cattle jobbers, dressmakers and the Castle Deverill
estate manager and bookkeeper, all descended from the Huguenots. Lord and Lady Deverill sat in the front pew with Bertie, Maud, Victoria and Elspeth. Miss Grieve sat in the row behind with Kitty.
Much to Kitty’s delight she found herself sitting next to Lady Rowan-Hampton, wrapped snugly in a warm coat and fur stole. Her husband, the portly and red-faced Sir Ronald, had to sit on the
aisle side in order to get out to read the lesson. ‘My dear Kitty,’ whispered Lady Rowan-Hampton happily, placing her prayer book on the ledge in front of her. ‘I haven’t
seen you for such a long time. Haven’t you grown into a pretty girl? I must say, you’ve inherited your grandmother’s good looks. You know, as a young woman her beauty was the talk
of Dublin. Now, how are we to get through the service? I know, let’s play a game. Find an animal that matches each member of your family, and Reverend Daunt, of course, let’s not forget
him. If you were an animal, Kitty, you’d be . . .’ She narrowed her soft brown eyes and Kitty was transfixed by her rosy cheeks, slightly on the plump side, her smooth powdery skin and
full, expressive mouth. Kitty thought that, if people were cakes, Lady Rowan-Hampton would be a juicy Victoria sponge cake, whereas her mother would be a dry and bitter porter cake. ‘Of
course, my dear, you’d be a fox!’ Lady Rowan-Hampton continued. ‘You’d be a very cunning and charming little fox.’
    The service began with the first hymn and Kitty stood tall and sang as prettily as she could in order to impress Lady Rowan-Hampton. Miss Grieve just mouthed the words, Kitty supposed, because
her voice was inaudible. Mrs Daunt, the Rector’s wife, usually played the organ, almost as badly as Elspeth played the piano, but today, as Mrs Daunt was indisposed, their neighbour, the
porcine Mr Rowe, played the violin beautifully. Kitty could smell Lady Rowan-Hampton’s perfume, which was floral and very sweet, like tuberose, and Kitty decided that when she was grown-up
she wanted to be just like her. Of course, she didn’t want a fat old husband like Sir Ronald, who was Master of the local hunt, a loud bore and contrary when drunk – Kitty had often
heard him holding forth in the dining room after dinner when the women had gone through to the drawing room. Lady Rowan-Hampton always wore glittering diamonds about her neck and wrists and long
dresses that swished as she walked. She was the closest thing to a princess that Kitty had ever seen. Now she was sitting beside her, Kitty was more enthralled than ever.
    Sir Ronald read the first lesson. His booming voice rebounded off the walls as he threw each syllable into the congregation as if he were a colonel lobbing grenades. Victoria read the second,
softly and a little too fast, swallowing the ends of the sentences so their meaning was almost entirely lost. As Reverend Daunt warmed to his sermon, Lady Rowan-Hampton leaned down and whispered a
word into Kitty’s ear. ‘Walrus.’ Kitty stifled a giggle, because
that
was the very animal Kitty had thought of when Sir Ronald had read the lesson.
    During the final hymn the collection plate was passed round. Lady Rowan-Hampton handed Kitty a coin so that, when the plate reached her, she was able to drop it in among the others with a light
clink. At the end of the service Mr Rowe took up his violin and played a jig, which made most people smile in amusement, except for Maud whose tight lips pursed even tighter with disapproval.
‘So, what animal do you think your father would be?’ Lady Rowan-Hampton asked Kitty.
    ‘A lion,’ said Kitty.
    ‘Very good,’ said Lady Rowan-Hampton approvingly. ‘I think you’re