Cordelia by Winston Graham

Author:Winston Graham [Graham, Winston]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Thereafter there is no going back. The chasm of yesterday becomes the lover’s leap of today and the accepted risk of tomorrow. Twenty-two years of sheltered upbringing is the chrysalis that breaks, and the butterfly spreads its wings.

In authority at the dye works; in control of Grove Hall; in love. Here is all the earth and all the kingdoms of the earth. But careful, says common sense, that common sense taken from ancestors slow and steady, careful, pride goeth; now show your mettle. Yes, Mr Simnel, I know what you’re talking about when you speak of Norton’s patent for tipping pile goods with lacquer. Yes, Mrs. Meredith, Mr Ferguson spoke to me before he left; he wants the Welsh coal; oh, order two tons of it, we have plenty of storage. I’m sorry, Madam Herbert, I don’t seem to have the concentration to play today, could we have the singing exercises instead? Sometimes conscience raised its head, staring, unbelieving. Sometimes the mind withdrew and held up a pointing finger. You. You. Madness. Whom the gods would destroy … And then it all slid away into the blank unreason of knowing she would meet him again, of needing to hear his voice.

Aunt Tish grumbled at her going out, but Uncle Pridey hardly seemed to notice. He had bought some tree shrews and was making a special cage for them.

Mr Ferguson came back on Saturday evening, and Sunday was a day back to normal. The early bath and walk and prayers, the presence about the house, the servants just a little quieter, the breathing, the elastic boots, the drive to church. Her father and mother and Teddy and Emma and Sarah and Penelope; a pang at the sight of them. It’s a shame, Essie being at Newton Heath; that’s two gone now, Delia, and your father feels it a lot, though he doesn’t say much. Dear Anne will be fourteen next week; she’s at home cooking the dinner; she seemed to want to. Yes, and looking after Winifred and Virginia and Evelyn Clarissa.

Father is greyer, she thought, and so thin; such a pathetic little neck, but it could be so stiff if he felt like it. What would he say?

The drive home and the heavy midday dinner. Mr Ferguson carving. The specialist in Town had said half a pound of lean steak every day to get his weight down; he was doing that. An easy cure, he said, expecting everyone to smile. Afterwards a drowsy afternoon – no needlework allowed – then tea and more prayers. Rain came with the dark as they were leaving for church. They got back to a late supper with Aunt Tish wondering what Brook would be doing in that there London. Mr Ferguson for once was tired and untalkative, and everyone was early to bed.

An oasis of respectability.

On Monday morning as they were driving down to Town together Mr Ferguson ordered Tomkins to stop, and she saw the old half-blind man who had taken her message to Stephen coming eagerly towards them.

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