Marjorie Farrel Read Free Page A

and she and Robin were very close, having drawn together for comfort and support, but his seven years seniority meant he was gone just at the time Barbara needed him most. She left for Miss Hastings’ feeling awkward, gangly, and homesick. Judith, who remembered her own first weeks, was quick to respond to Barbara’s silent but obvious unhappiness.
    What could have been only a brief relationship blossomed into a rich friendship. Both girls shared a self-reflectiveness and intelligence that enabled them to laugh at their adolescent agonies even as they suffered them. The social distance between them was not a barrier. Barbara loved hearing about the small, cozy vicarage in Hampshire, and Judith’s unworldly but adored father. Judith, on the other hand, was fascinated by Barbara’s life, which alternated between Ashurst and London. And both of them were impatient with the limitations on their lives as women. They resented their brothers’ greater freedom, but swore to each other they would never marry just to gain the greater freedom as a married woman. They dreamed of marriage with men who would treat them as equals and appreciate them for their intelligence as well as their beauty. If either of them would ever be said to be beautiful, a development they despaired of! They read Mary Wollstonecraft secretly and imagined themselves setting up house together. Judith, in addition to her painting, would learn German and Italian and support them by translating, while Barbara worked on her music. Somehow, in their fantasies, their dreams of romance and independence seemed not incompatible.
    Despite their dreaming, they were both in touch with reality. They knew that Barbara would make her come-out. They knew too that Judith would not, and that it was less than likely that she would ever marry, the selection of eligible men in Cheriton being rather limited. There was the baronet, and a few gentlemen’s sons from the surrounding neighborhood who treated Judith like a sister. When the vicar died suddenly and Judith was forced to cut short her last year at the school, she and Barbara swore to maintain their friendship. They had successfully done so for a few years. Barbara had read between the lines of Judith’s letters and felt the old anger at the lack of opportunities for women.
    As for herself, she had wealth and position, but except for Robin, no one to whom she could reveal her ironic view of the world. The few occasions upon which Barbara had spoken plainly had taught her it was safer to appear thoroughly conventional if one wanted to keep one’s friends. To have Judith back in her life was like recovering a part of herself.
    On Tuesday morning, therefore, she woke early, with a feeling of excitement, like a child who is anticipating a special outing. At first she could not identify the source, and then she realized that she would have a whole day to herself. No calls to make, no shopping to do. A rare luxury.
    When she walked into the breakfast room, she found Robin already there, reading the newspaper. There was no footman about, for both the Stanleys preferred to live more informally than their parents and took advantage of their absence to be more relaxed. Barbara served herself eggs and ham and muffins from the sideboard, and Robin looked up from his paper.
    “You are up early this morning,” he teased. “I am sure you were not in earlier than two last night.”
    “I hope you weren’t waiting up for me,” Barbara laughed. “Weren’t you also out?”
    “No, I had planned to go to the Beckwiths’ assembly, but I was tired, so I sent my apologies and had a quiet night here, losing to Devenham at piquet.”
    Barbara tried not to react to the viscount’s name. All the men she had met in London had not diminished her feeling for Robert Chase, Viscount Devenham. He had grown up with them in Kent, and was the heir to the large estate bordering Ashurst. Several years younger than Robin, he had been at school while