The Emperor by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles Read Free Book Online Page A

puzzlement. 'Your consent was not required,' she said. ‘Your mother and my father may dispose of their wealth as they please, and you surely – '
    ‘They were to leave everything to our child!’
    – and you surely must realize that my father, at least, needs a male heir for his spinning mills. A daughter could not follow him there, whatever your mother –'
    ‘ I'll have you realize one thing, madam,' James said fiercely. 'I married you for the sake of producing an heir for Morland Place, and that is what I have done. Fanny shall have everything. Do you think I will stand by and see her cheated? Do you think I would have anything to do with breeding a boy to steal what is rightfully hers? As to your father, he may keep his promises, or go back on them; he may leave everything to Fanny, or give it all to the next beggar he meets on the street. But there will be no more children of this marriage, of that you may assure yourself.’
    The ordinary sounds of the garden at dusk fed themselves back into the space where his voice had been: a movement of leaves, a last sparrow chipping away at the grey half-light, the dabbling of some water-bird on the moat, and farther off the sounds of the house and yard, a dog rattling its chain, a cockerel, the clank of a bucket, a man's voice calling.
    For a long time they stood still, looking at each other. She seemed farther from him than a star, yet he was aware of every breath she took, almost of every heartbeat, as though he were feeling with her nerve-endings. He had said something that could not be unsaid, and now for the first time he wondered what she was feeling, what she had ever felt, about being married to him. It would have been appro priate if she had stretched out her hand and blasted him with retributive lightning, like an enraged Juno, and in that long moment he felt her powerful enough to do it. He waited for oblivion, aware that he would have welcomed it, done nothing to evade it.
    Then she turned and left him without a word, walking lightly and gracefully, her thin slippers hardly disturbing the gravel of the path. James, unpunished, watched her go. Always in his life, less happened than he expected, or hoped for: that was his tragedy. When she was out of sight, he turned the other way, and went in through the barbican. The night beacon had been lit in the window above the archway, and its yellow light made the dusk seem suddenly greyer.

Chapter Three
     
      Mary Ann was woken abruptly by the crash and rattle of someone knocking down the poker into the hearth. A soft human sound of distress, followed by muted noises of reparation told her that it was a housemaid making up the fire, something that was usually done silently without her knowledge before she woke.
    She opened her eyes. Above her and around her were the red sarsenet tester and curtains of the enormous Butts bed. They were old, and a little faded, and really ought to have been replaced for her marriage to James. Someone had failed in their duty there. She pondered for a moment on colours and materials. The heavy carving which covered the ancient oak of the frame demanded the splendid rather than the dainty; something brocaded with gold, perhaps? She knew from the light coming through the curtains that it was still early, but she was wide awake. Yesterday her father had gone back to Manchester: once the business of wills and settlements had been concluded, he had begun to be anxious about his mills. She had clung to him, wanting foolishly to beg him to take her with him, back to Hobsbawn House where she belonged, where she had been mistress for so long, where everyone loved and admired her. Pride sustained her, and she swallowed her tears and waved him goodbye with a watery smile. She was married to James, and nothing but her death or his could change that: she had no choice but to stay here and make the best of it she could.
    Morning brought new counsel. She looked at the faded curtains some other mistress