The Rose of Sebastopol by Katharine McMahon Read Free Book Online

Horatio of course. Which is why I’m here.” He glanced at the clock. “Will Mrs. Lingwood be long, do you think?”
    “She is dressing. We were about to go out.”
    “So I see.” He raised an eyebrow, gave me a hot, sudden glance and nodded. “That bonnet is certainly very fetching, Miss Lingwood, especially with those ribbons undone.”
    I ducked my head to hide the flush that immediately climbed my neck. “I understand you’ve been in Australia. How fascinating.”
    He threw back his head and laughed, again a sharp memory. His rare laughter began as a chuckle and then, if he was really amused or if others joined in, became full-throated and prolonged. “Fascinating. Absolutely. No other word for it. Sand and sky are fascinating , especially after a month or two of looking at nothing else.”
    At that moment in came Mother, so burdened that she cracked the spike of her umbrella against the door-frame and threw herself off balance. Her bonnet dangled from her hand, as did a capacious bag in which she carried the minutes from last year’s Easter Garden meeting, and she also clutched her gloves, cloak, and a folded altar cloth, because it had been our week for laundering the sacred linens. Max darted forward to help her and there was a flurry of laughter and movement as she disentangled herself, accepted the primroses with extravagant gratitude, and glanced shyly into his face.
    The ensuing conversation was conducted with breathless haste. Both Max and Mother were in a hurry, because if we arrived late Mrs. Hardcastle would certainly use the extra few minutes to hold a private talk with the vicar, and Max behaved with the urgency of one who was rushing off to fight the entire war single-handed. He refused a seat and kept glancing at the door. “The fact is, Mrs. Lingwood, my stepmother begged me to call. She made me promise not to leave London without seeing you.”
    “Ah, how is Isabella? I’ve not heard from her for weeks.”
    “Your sister is not well, ma’am, but then she never is, in my experience. And she now has an additional burden of anxiety in that since his fall my father has been very ill with some debilitating disease of the gut... To be frank, I don’t expect him to be alive when I return from this war.”
    Mother made sympathetic noises but Max shrugged. “The trouble is that my brother, Horatio, will inherit Stukeley and as he plans to marry soon, there will be no place for your sister or Rosa. The timing is unfortunate. Were I home I would do my best to provide for them. As it is, to be blunt, my stepmother doesn’t trust Horatio to look after her and I’m afraid, from a brief conversation I had with him, her fears may be well justified.”
    “But won’t she be provided for in her husband’s will?”
    “He will make some small provision for her, I’m sure, but he’s always been adamant that the estates should be left intact. The difficulty is that her health has declined so much that she needs constant nursing and because Father has scarcely been conscious for months, he may not have left her a sufficient allowance. I’m not sure he has a proper grasp of just how desperate her situation might be. Hence Isabella’s urgent request that I call on you.”
    “But what can I do? Should I go to her, do you think? Would I be welcome? Now that Sir Matthew is ill, perhaps there would be no difficulty...” I could tell that Mother had mentally begun the process of canceling her meeting and packing her bags. The news that Maria Lingwood had gone north to care for her sick sister, though inconvenient, would cause a gratifying flurry on the committees.
    “I’m sure your sister and niece would be very happy to see you, but I think on the whole your presence would only add tension to an already difficult situation. At the moment Rosa, at least, is indispensable, because oddly enough she is the only person my father will allow near him. Isabella’s maid, Nora, is more than competent and willing