Diana the Huntress Read Free Page A

before had been sulky and lowering, into a bewitching blaze of beauty.
    Had Mrs Carter not been reaching forward to take another slice of Madeira cake, had she seen the transformed Diana, her daughter’s proposal of friendship with Diana Armitage would have been quickly nipped in the bud. But, as it was, by the time she raised her eyes, the shadows of social embarrassment were once more clouding Diana’s face and she looked as if she could never, under any circumstances, be competition to the fair Ann.
    At last the visit was over. The wind had veered roundto the west and by the time Mr Armitage and his daughter reached home, the rain was beginning to fall.
    ‘Papa,’ said Diana earnestly. ‘Before we go indoors, I beseech you to let me ride on the morrow. Squire Radford will not recognize me.’
    ‘He’s the only person that would,’ snorted the little vicar. ‘Jimmy Radford may be old, but his eyes are as sharp as a hawk’s. No, Diana. You’d best stay home and try to learn some pretty manners like that young Ann Carter. Husband hunting’s your sport from now on.’
    ‘I do not want to get married,’ said Diana passionately . ‘I will never get married.’
    But as she climbed the narrow stairs to her room, the words of the gypsy woman sounded in her ears.
     
    In a coffee house in Hopeminster, Jack Emberton put one booted foot up on the low stool opposite and addressed his friend, Peter Flanders.
    ‘On the subject of the ladies, Peter, I saw a deuced fine wench this day.’
    ‘Silver or brass?’ demanded Mr Flanders laconically.
    ‘Oh, silver, definitely. Sat up behind some spanking bays with a little vicar.’
    ‘Ah, that’d be one of the famous Armitage gels.’
    A silence fell between the friends. Jack Emberton was tall and broad-shouldered, with a head of black curls and bright blue eyes set in a square, handsome, tanned face. Peter Flanders was tall, but thin and bony, his thinness accentuated by a tightly buttoned black coat worn over tight pantaloons which ended in long, thin, tight boots. He had a long, thin, tight face to gowith the rest of him. His brown hair was backcombed into a crest on top of his head.
    ‘Rich, ain’t they? The Armitages, that is,’ said Jack Emberton at last.
    ‘Reverend ain’t got a feather to fly with,’ replied Mr Flanders, ‘but his sons-in-law are all as rich as Golden Ball.’
    ‘The Miss Armitage I saw was a tall, strapping girl with glorious eyes.’
    ‘Diana Armitage,’ said Mr Flanders, looking wise. ‘Don’t like men. Well-known fact in Berham county.’
    There was another comfortable silence.
    ‘Perhaps I might try my luck in that direction,’ yawned Mr Emberton.
    Mr Flanders raised his eyebrows so high that they nearly vanished into his hair. ‘You, Jack, amarrying man!’
    ‘I did not say anything about marriage.’
    ‘Well, you can’t go gathering the rosebuds of vicars’ daughters.’
    ‘I wasn’t contemplating anything so sinful. I see a means whereby I might be able to pry some pocket money for myself out of the Armitage sons-in-law.’
    ‘Don’t tangle with them,’ said Mr Flanders. ‘It won’t fadge. Murmurs and whispers among the ton that it’s been tried before with no success. Powerful lot, the Armitage sons-in-law.’
    ‘I am already much enamoured of the fair Diana. Just how I like them. Spicy.’
    ‘Looks sulky to me. Vicar ain’t going to encourage the advances of a card sharp, anyways.’
    Jack Emberton half rose from his seat, his bulkmenacing against the candlelight. ‘I mean gentleman of fortune,’ gabbled Mr Flanders.
    ‘Exactly, my friend, and don’t forget it. I have made a tidy bit at the tables of St James’s and I have a mind to rusticate. So I shall look about for some small estate to rent, as near the vicarage as possible. You will put it about that I am a man of means, Jack Emberton, gentleman, recently returned to this country and desirous of finding a bride. Now, is there anything else about the