Midsummer at Eyre Hall: Book Three Eyre Hall Trilogy Read Free Page A

tenants,
making sure their houses were safe, and we gave them all a month’s free rent as
our engagement present. Smythe thought we were too generous, but I wanted to
make sure everyone accepted Michael, and I knew their pockets were close to
their hearts. We aimed to balance the accounts by negotiating an agreement to sell
some more land, which was unproductive for the estate, to Mr. Jackson, who
found it useful for his business interests.
    We visited Adele and Mr. Greenwood in
London, after the harvest. They were getting along as well as could be
expected. I think Adele would have liked to become more acquainted with London’s
social life, but Mr. Greenwood was set in his ways. He had been a widower for some
years before marrying Adele, and he was more interested in spending time at his
clubs, than taking his wife to the theatre or soirées. Adele was thrilled to
see us, and our visit gave her a perfect excuse to socialise. She accompanied
us when we visited Mr. Dickens, and Mr. Wilkie Collins, who were kind enough to
take us on inspiring riverside walks. We also saw the great Ellen Terry play ‘Diana’
in The Antipodes at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, and we visited our magnificent
British Museum.  
    Susan was occupied with her baby boy,
whom she called William after her father-in-law, while Dante was busy with his
classes at the Royal Academy and preparing exhibitions. He seemed to be away
from home too frequently, and I wondered if Susan was lonely. We took her and
Dante out to lunch, and it saddened me that they were not as happy as I had
expected. I hadn’t realised Susan’s character was bitter, and her temper so
short. She seemed to spend more energy nagging than breathing. Dante was
patient but aloof, and I wondered if they were as well suited as they had
seemed last Christmas at Eyre Hall.
    We returned to Eyre Hall before All
Hallows. The renovations were complete and we had already occupied our marital
bedroom. I wanted our wedding to be much sooner, but the archbishop kept
insisting we should wait for John. Then John wrote to tell me he wouldn’t
return until the spring, so I finally insisted on Christmas Eve, against the archbishop’s
opinion. He had been a friend of the family for many years, since Edward had
been a young man, and he had been a great help to John since his days at Rugby,
where he had been first his tutor, and later his headmaster, but I thought he
was becoming too opinionated about our lives. I had told him, in no uncertain
terms, that my marriage to Michael would no longer be postponed, and he reluctantly
accepted the date I proposed.
    I considered myself fortunate, because
Michael was a gentle and considerate lover. His hands and eyes were always
searching for mine, when we were in company, and when we were alone, his lips
caressed my skin so gently and fervently, that it was easy to melt under his
touch. Being out of his sight for more than a few hours was like a torture.
Sometimes I wondered if anyone should be allowed to be as happy as we were, while
there was so much misery in the world.
    The memory of our last minutes together,
before my unjust confinement, filled my heart with warmth, which turned to devastation
at the thought I might not see him again.
    Michael woke early, dressed and sat down
on the bed. He took my face in his hands and brushed my lips with his. “You
look beautiful this morning, Jane.’
    I threw my arms around his neck. “Don’t
leave so soon. Come back to bed.”
    “Tonight, my love. I must leave now if
I’m to return home before dinner.”
    “Stay. I’ll miss you.”
    “Don’t you want me to get our wedding
licence?”
    I sat up. “I don’t understand why
Archbishop Templar wants you to go personally. He could bring the licence
himself. He spends so much time here; he’s even filled the wardrobe in the
Green Room with all his clothes.”
    “You know why, Jane. He sent a message
saying he was too busy to travel this week.”
    “He could send