The Shape of Sand by Marjorie Eccles Read Free Book Online Page B

– the last thing she wants, too, I should imagine. What do you think – she so perfectly hates the name Rose Jessamy that she prefers to be called RJ! And I can see why,” added Daisy sympathetically. Its owner was not in the least the flowery, gentle being the name suggested. “I rather liked her,” she finished, deliberately understating the case in anticipation of her elder sisters’ reactions – Harriet’s scorn and Vita’s teasing. In fact, she was already on the way to developing a decided crush on Miss Jessamy … RJ. How splendid to be so independent, to chop off your bothersome hair and wear loose, comfortable clothes. No stockings. No stays! Freedom, no matter what anyone thought!

    It was entertaining to speculate on how RJ and Mama would get on, and who would win, if it came to a battle of wills.
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    In fact, they had already encountered one another, though not to say in a spirit of controversy, and not in the matter of stays or stockings, but over the decoration of the rooms, which Miss Jessamy had naturally wanted to see immediately she arrived, since they were, after all, the main reason for her being here at Charnley
    She had walked through each one, admiring their proportions, and then stood looking around the last one without saying anything, deep in thought. “Yes,” she said drily at last. “This is exactly the sort of thing I imagined, from what Marcus said.”
    The little pulse of uneasiness, which had previously only stirred, now awoke properly in Beatrice’s breast, her hitherto unshaken faith in Marcus’s judgement having already been shattered by the arrival of Miss Jessamy … what could her level-headed son have been thinking of, how could he possibly have imagined Daisy could be exposed to the influence of a creature who dressed in such an outrageously controversial fashion? The skirt – the lack of stockings! And that hair! If she cared so little as to present herself to the world in such a way, what on earth were her moral principles?
    And another thing – Beatrice, who was never indecisive, had discovered to her alarm that she was now by no means as confident as she had been about the work Miss Jessamy was to do. The young woman had asked for – nay, almost demanded - carte blanche to work on the decorations as she wished. It was not so much the fee, it seemed, as the opportunity to experiment, and express herself as she desired in paint, the provision of free materials and her keep provided, which was of paramount importance.
    â€œMy dear, you know I leave all that sort of thing to you,” Amory had said when Beatrice had first approached him over the matter of refurbishing the guest accommodation in the west wing. “You have such impeccable taste.”
    But she was beginning to realise, too late, that even Amory
might be somewhat shaken when he saw what might be done to rooms where previously the decorations, if needing to be renewed, had simply followed accepted tradition. She had of course known he would be rather taken aback by the sort of thing she envisaged but had simply decided that she would have to enlist the help of Marcus – and possibly Daisy, who could twist her father round her little finger – to persuade Amory that new was not necessarily bad. Now she realised that she might have more than just that on her plate, belatedly remembering that he regarded the Art Nouveau style Vita had so set her heart on as the acme of decadence.
    This would not do! She took herself in hand and mentioned the vibrant wall colours, the decorative door panels and stencilled friezes which she had admired in Millie’s house, but Miss Jessamy did not seem to be impressed with her suggestions. “Every place needs different treatment, and Lady Glendinning’s house is not at all like this one.”
    That Millie’s modern London residence was not like Charnley was undeniable. “What