Estella by Kathy George

Author:Kathy George
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQ Fiction
Published: 2023-03-27T00:00:00+00:00

23

The day of the showing of the artworks is the following one. Finally! The event is at four in the afternoon and I can hardly contain myself until then. I try to fill the time with reading, only I read a page and have no idea what I have read, and must begin anew. In the end, I take out a gown, the hem of which caught on something and ripped, that needs mending. Usually this would be Matilda’s task, but I am desperate for something to occupy not only my fingers but my mind, and this takes up some of the morning.

When I previously attended James Waverley’s house for the ball, the surrounding estate was in darkness when we arrived. But this afternoon, I come unexpectedly upon Waverley Manor in the daylight and it is an altogether pleasurable experience. The dwelling is on two levels and made of pale grey stone. Large and stately, it is set on flat hectares of green, dotted by masses of snowdrops. The nearest woodlands, dark and deep, are some distance away and nothing detracts the eye from the mansion’s beauty. The grey roof of the house is pitched, the windows are casements. At one corner are French doors leading out onto a stone patio. The patio has the prettiest little fountain and cherub at its centre. And all this to be Eliza’s when she marries James.

I think about Laurence again, my Royal Dragoon Guards captain. I have to admit my thoughts have strayed to him all too often since his letter. I had determined not to think about him, but it has been difficult. He seems honest and honourable and sincere. Did he take up soldiering, I wonder, because he knew that he would not inherit the estate? It seems unfair, does it not?

The manservant who greets me at the door and takes my coat leads me through the library at the left and into a room beyond. I recognise it as the ballroom, only now it is filled with an array of paintings on easels and, in the far corner, a gathering of guests.

James detaches himself from the group and comes over to take my hand. ‘Estella.’ He has taken to calling me by my first name because of my friendship with Eliza.

‘It is good of you to come,’ he tells me.

‘It is my pleasure,’ I say, endeavouring to concentrate on his words rather than gaze frantically about for a sighting of him.

‘Feel free to wander amongst the art,’ James tells me. ‘Refreshments will be served at five, followed by Mr Pevensey talking a little about his work, and then we will have supper.

‘If you are looking for Eliza’—alas, my gaze has been distracted!—‘sadly, she is not well and sends her greetings and hopes you will not miss her too much.’

‘That is too bad,’ I say. ‘I do hope she will be well soon.’

He smiles good-naturedly at me. I thank him, and he leaves me to tour the room and the paintings in my own time.

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