Dynasty 16: The Devil’s Horse by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

Author:Cynthia Harrod-Eagles [HARROD EAGLES, CYNTHIA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780748133031
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2011-08-24T14:00:00+00:00

While James was in London, Lord Batchworth paid a visit to Yorkshire, though not to Morland Place. His destination was Skelwith Lodge, the grand name given to the grand house the master builder had created for his wife and increasing family.

Skelwith had inherited from his father an ancient house in Stonegate within the city walls of York. It was still mentioned in all the best guidebooks as an outstanding example of fifteenth-century architecture, with a magnificent oriel window and a notable hammerbeam roof. But not caring to live amongst even the finest of stone mullions and linen-fold panels, as soon as he had married Skelwith had begun building a thoroughly modern house in its own pleasure-grounds.

The obvious choice for a coming man and his wife was the elegant and fashionable district of Clifton, which already accommodated such families as the Chubbs of Bootham Park and the Coweys of Beverley House. Skelwith Lodge was to be built to John’s own design as an advertisement to his trade as well as a home, and it would not do to advertise in any but the best location.

As the carriage drew into the sweep in front of Skelwith Lodge, Batchworth stared up at the gleaming, stuccoed façade in wonder tinged with amusement. ‘Lodge’ was not a bit too grand for it. It might almost have attained to the title of Hall, for it sported such a profusion of balconies and bays and turrets and wrought iron, such gables, decorative brickwork, false parapets and crenellations, and above all such a battery of windows, that the word ‘house’ simply could not convey the power of its impact. Perhaps it would look better, Batchworth thought weakly, when the creeper had had time to grow up the walls and the rather scrawny laurels of the sweep had thickened out. As an advertisement, at least, it certainly illustrated every architectural flourish Skelwith might ever be asked for by a customer.

There was no doubt that Mathilde loved it, however, as was evident by the pride with which she received Lord Batchworth in the morning-room. His importance as a visitor was proved by the fact that Skelwith himself arrived to greet him before he had exhausted the polite commonplaces, and thus saved him the trouble of having to ask for him.

It both amused and pained Jes that before Skelwith had been in the room five minutes he had managed to convey the news to him that Mathilde was increasing again. Jes expressed suitable congratulations.

‘Thank you. We hope very much for a boy this time,’ Mathilde said. The wistfulness was naked in her voice, and Batchworth guessed that she wanted a son for her husband perhaps more than he wanted one for himself. Skelwith was an affectionate father, and loved his four daughters with the tender passion of a man who had known what it was to have no-one to love.

‘They’re strong and healthy, my love, that’s all that matters,’ he had said to Mathilde. ‘You wouldn’t want to change our dear

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