A Woman's Estate Read Free Page A

double doors of the library, through
the beautifully furnished entry hall, and finally all the way down the broad
steps to the driveway, where his hack was being held by a groom.
    “Bertram wasn’t joking when he said he wanted to marry, was
he?” Arthur said suddenly.
    “No, I’m afraid not,” Roger replied.
    “Well, why the devil shouldn’t he?” Arthur asked irritably.
“His wife would be perfectly welcome to live with us.” He gestured at the huge
country mansion behind them. “Surely he cannot think we would lack living
space.”
    Roger laughed, but then shook his head, his expression
becoming sober. “It could not be easy to ask a woman to share his kind of life.
You know he would not be considered eligible by many fathers, his ability to
support a wife resting, as it does, on your goodwill. You know and I know that
Bertram is as much your friend as your secretary, but there is no way he can
prove that to a girl’s family. It is not as simple as you would like to make it
seem, Arthur.”
    “What the devil can I do?” Arthur asked. “I would hate to
lose Bertram, but I would gladly—”
    “I don’t think you should do anything at all just now,”
Roger said decisively. “Just keep your ears and eyes open. If you find that
someone in particular has caught his fancy, I imagine it will become obvious
what is best to do.”
    “Yes,” Arthur said, drawing out the word, and then his heavy
lids dropped, obscuring the mischief in his eyes as he added, “I have always
found Bertram to have a most discriminating taste. Perhaps I will have a
ready-made hostess without my having to marry, after all.”

Chapter Two
     
    “Lady Lydden?” Mr. John Deedes said to his clerk, looking
and sounding as surprised as he felt. “Is not Lord Lydden with his wife?”
    “No, sir,” the clerk replied. “No one is with her. She is
quite alone, sir.”
    The solicitor’s face darkened. He could only assume that
Francis Lydden and his family had arrived all but penniless, that Francis was
drunk and incapable, and that his wife had been forced to come to apply for
sufficient funds to make the journey to Rutupiae Hall. It was a dismal
prospect. He hated to contemplate the ruin of a fine, old family, but there was
little he could do, so he told his clerk to show in Lady Lydden and rose to greet
her, bracing himself to meet a woman he was sure would be bitter and in great
distress.
    Mr. Deedes knew something about Lady Lydden. Although
Francis and his father had not parted on good terms, Francis had retained a
sufficient sense of responsibility to inform his father when he had married in
America and when each of his children had been born. At least, John Deedes
thought, Francis had married a suitable girl. Abigail Evangeline Lydden was the
daughter of Victor Milford, youngest son of Sir Thomas Milford. The Milfords
were a good Dorset family. Why Victor had emigrated to America, Mr. Deedes did
not know, but he remembered Lord Lydden’s relief and satisfaction after he made
inquiries of the Milfords at the time Francis had written to announce his marriage.
    The door opened, and Mr. Deedes came around his desk and
hurried forward. He had intended to meet the lady near the door and support her
trembling steps to a chair, but the brilliance of the smile she gave his clerk
as she thanked him, the erect carriage and graceful motion as she turned toward
Deedes and held out her hand, were sufficient evidence that Lady Lydden was in
no need of physical support. In fact, it was Mr. Deedes who could have used a
prop, and he had some difficulty in commanding himself enough to bow and kiss
the proffered hand.
    By the time he had seated her, he was enough restored from
the shock her beauty had dealt him to tell himself he was a fool. He had
assumed from the speed with which Francis married after he arrived in America that
he had married for money, to keep body and soul together without being reduced
to doing a day’s work. Why that had