Sovay by Celia Rees

Author:Celia Rees
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Published: 2010-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

By the time they arrived back at Sovay’s door, any pretence of cordiality between them had nearly broken. Sovay did not mean to be discourteous but she found Lady Bingham’s company exhausting. On the surface, everything was relentlessly trivial but beneath Sovay sensed deep waters. Even ordinary conversation felt as though they were engaged in an elaborate cotillion to which she had to guess the steps and putting a foot wrong would spell disaster.

Sovay stripped off her gloves and removed her wisp of a headdress, ready to hand them to Mrs Crombie, her mind still on Lady Bingham.

‘Oh, Miss Sovay!’

The housekeeper stayed by her, gloves and headdress crushed in her hand. She was hovering somewhere between tears and mirth, excess emotion fairly vibrating through her. It was so unlike her that Sovay felt immediate alarm.

‘Mrs Crombie, what is it? Whatever is the matter?’

‘In your father’s study. He arrived not an hour since. So thin . . . Like a skeleton . . .’

Sovay failed to hear the rest of her words. She ran down the hallway, threw open the doors of her father’s study and hurled herself into the arms of her brother.

He seemed all bone and skin, she could feel his ribs through his coat, but he was strong enough to lift her off her feet and whirl her round as he always did when he was back from school. When he finally released her, they looked at each other both too filled with emotion to speak. Sovay was so glad to see him that she could not find words for it. Anyway, she could not think of what to say. His appearance surprised her greatly. He was rake thin, his clothes were hanging off him, but what he was wearing was even more shocking. He wore the dress of a French patriot: a long riding coat over a plain white shirt open at the collar. He wore the pantaleons of the sans-culottes and black boots turned down. His hair was cropped short into a gold cap of curls, like those of a young Greek god, or Roman hero.

‘At least I left off my tricolour and bonnet rouge,’ he said, smiling at her reaction.

‘Good that you did.’ Sovay shuddered at what could have happened, recalling the man she’d seen beaten in the street.

‘You must forgive me appearing as a citoyen. I did not think it would trouble you so. I left Paris in a hurry in what I stood up in.’

‘Why did you go there? I’ve been so worried . . .’ Sovay felt tears threatening again.

‘Shush.’ Hugh took her in his arms again, much as he used to comfort his little sister when she had fallen over and grazed her knee. Finally, he held her away from him and looked at her. ‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’

‘Yes, you are here now. But why on earth did you not tell anyone?’

She looked at him, her large eyes magnified by tears. Hugh could never decide between blue or grey.

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