Curricle & Chaise by Church Lizzie

Author:Church, Lizzie [Church, Lizzie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-03-31T21:00:00+00:00

The presence of the trunk provided a poignant reminder of all that had happened over the past few weeks – her stark arrival at Abdale, walking merrily with Julia in the snow, meeting the Churchmans...Oh bother. Try as she might, Lydia could not get the thought of Henry Churchman out of her mind. She wondered what he was doing and how he would react when he learned that she was gone from Abdale. Then she berated herself soundly. He would probably not even think of it. He would have no reaction at all. Why should he? The likes of Henry Churchman were not for her and she ought not to allow herself to think of him. Treacherous thoughts. His image refused to disappear, and in the end she was forced to concede that it might take a day or two for her to put his memory completely out of her head.

In view of such thoughts the visit to Netley Court was certainly a most welcome diversion. The house itself was scarcely a hundred yards from the vicarage, on the opposite side of the road. Passing through the iron gates leading to the driveway Lydia could see the building looming up before her in the gloomy light. As far as she could make out it was quite a large building but it did not seem to be a very happy one. Rows of rectangular windows stared blankly out at her from across the frontage. A pair of massive chimney-stacks reached upwards to the sky. Around them some cawing rooks were squabbling over the most prestigious roosting place. The roofline was dominated by a giant hexagonal cupola. The stonework was crumbling, the front door heavy and ill fitting. The whole house was in a state of disrepair which contrasted rather sadly with its obviously elegant beginnings. For a second a shadow passed over her and made her spine tingle. She suddenly felt quite chilled.

Once inside, however, Lydia’s fleeting melancholy evaporated. She very quickly determined that the house could probably be quite a pleasant place, given a little care and attention. The hall was lofty, if musty, with a bowed mahogany staircase decorated with carved garlands and scrolls, whilst the parlour into which they were admitted was elegantly furnished in peach and blue, with a roaring fire in the grate.

Sir John and his two daughters were quietly engaged in a game of vingt-et-un but the cards were instantly forgotten (and allowed to fall to the floor in disarray) as he leapt up to greet his guests and usher them into the room.

‘Delighted,’ he cried, warmly, a beaming smile on his face. ‘Delighted you have come. Sit yourselves down. Cold again outside. Easterlies, you know. Must be frozen. Take the fireside, Mrs Bridger. I’ll introduce your niece to Fanny and Ju.’

Fanny jumped up at once to be introduced, and echoed her father’s welcome. She was a plump, jolly-looking young lady of perhaps three and twenty, of less than middle height, like her father, but

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