The Lorimer Line by Anne Melville Read Free Book Online

should stand ready to welcome the son he hoped to have one day.
    From the upper lawns he heard the sound of tea cups: it was time to be sociable again. As soon as he appeared he found himself encumbered with Mrs Lynch. She had been ordered by her husband to be affable to his subordinates, but was not prepared to lower herself too far down the hierarchy. It was a relief when the military band began to play and made conversation superfluous.
    Just as it seemed that the afternoon’s entertainmentmust be drawing to a close, he was surprised to be approached by Margaret Lorimer.
    â€˜It was impolite of me to leave you so abruptly before tea, Mr Gregson,’ she said. ‘I take such pleasure in the company of children that it leads me to forget my manners. I hope you will forgive me.’
    Had she forgotten his own earlier rudeness or was this her way of assuring him that it was to be ignored? David was too flustered to think of a proper response, and this in turn seemed to make her feel that she had indeed offended him. Her next suggestion was an undisguised olive branch.
    â€˜I wonder whether you would care to see my father’s collection of Eastern art?’ she said. ‘I believe it to be highly esteemed.’
    David bowed his appreciation and followed her across the lawn. A double stone staircase led from the garden to the centre of the house, but the door at the head of it was closed to discourage intrusion. He was taken instead to a side entrance. It opened into a conservatory in which a fountain splashed to provide a humid atmosphere for palms and aspidistras. David himself had been born into a house where a single room served as kitchen and dining room and living room. But here – because there were no corridors on this floor, and each room led into the next – he found himself walking through a morning room, a grand drawing room and dining room and then a smaller version of each, presumably for the family’s use when they had no guests. Finally they arrived at the central hall. Its marble floor stretched from the front of the house to the back. On its further side one door of polished red mahogany was closed, whilst another stood open to show a large billiards table, covered with a white cloth, and a small smoking room beyond it. But the central hall was their destination.
    David looked dutifully around. Art had little interest for him, but he would have liked to study the row of portraits hanging in the upper gallery. He recognized the chairmanat once and guessed that all the subjects were members of the family. But to mention them might bring back the forbidden subject of slavery.
    Clocks, however, held a greater fascination. On either side of the front door stood a matching grandfather and grandmother, and a hanging timepiece on the wall was almost certainly a Tompion. But he had no time to examine it, for his guide was already showing him the Eastern collection. He did his best to make appreciative comments about the dozen or so folding screens in which scenes of love and war were painted in the miniature mogul style against a golden background, but was relieved that Margaret Lorimer herself showed little interest in these. Instead, after putting up her hand to find a key in some concealed place, she unlocked one of the showcases and took out a piece of carved jade.
    â€˜I love all the animals, but the squirrel is my favourite,’ she said. For a moment she cupped it in her hands, seeming to warm it. Then she handed it to David.
    He took it cautiously, afraid of dropping an object which might be worth a fortune. The surface quality of the stone he found unpleasant to the touch. As soon as was polite he handed it back and with much more enthusiasm pointed to an object which had caught his eye at once: a golden cage containing a tiny jewelled bird. Margaret agreed with his admiration.
    â€˜Unfortunately, my father has never been able to find a jeweller to repair it,’ she