Ryman, Rebecca Read Free Page B

defiance—all these had come
from Sarah. If one could overlook her disastrous taste in husbands, Sarah had
many virtues even though high intellect and the ability to articulate it had
not been among them. These, definitely, Olivia had acquired from her outrageous
father. Whatever Lady Bridget's opinion of him—and it was unambivalent—she
could not deny that Sean O'Rourke did have brains. That he chose to fritter
them away in chasing rainbows Lady Bridget might have considered his business, had he
not driven poor Sarah to her grave and defiled his daughter so thoroughly with
his radicalism. Why, she had never even had an English nanny! And which
high-born English gent would want to wed a lass who debated like a politician
and gave a lecture where only a kiss was called for?
    Irascibly
Lady Bridget rebuked the gardener for having let the vine grow wild and
promised a deduction of four annas from his wages. But she remained abstracted.
Certainly, Olivia's growing influence over Estelle was not Olivia's fault.
Despite her fearsome spirit, Olivia was practical, resourceful, unspoilt and
(when she chose to be) eminently sensible. That she had been allowed to run
wild in a country already a wilderness was not her fault, any more than the
fact that it was her less sterling qualities that Estelle chose to emulate. And
it was her daughter's growing insurgency that alarmed Lady Bridget. English
society forgave the Americans much because they didn't know any better; in an
English girl born and bred amidst the most hallowed traditions of the aristocracy,
radical behavior was neither easily forgiven nor quickly forgotten.
    As
far as Olivia was concerned, Lady Bridget not only knew her duties but was
determined to fulfil them to the best of her considerable ability. It was
Estelle's future that was now beginning to cause her concern. Had it been a
mistake, she wondered also for the thousandth time, to bring Olivia out here before Estelle was
suitably wed? ...

    "Vindaloo? Oh,
splendid." Estelle attacked the curry with gusto. "Is Papa going to
be late again?"
    "Your
father said not to wait dinner for him. He and Arthur will eat later in the
study." Lady Bridget signalled Rehman, the chief bearer, to remove the
serving dish from her daughter's purview.
    "It's
that Sea
Siren business
again, isn't it?" Estelle adroitly outmanoeuvred the bearer to add one
last spoonful of rice to her plate. "They say she was pirated because of
all that opium on board."
    "Was
she? Ask your father. I have no idea. Incidentally," she frowned,
"Jane Watkins sent a note to say she's bringing both dresses in the
morning. If you wish to still fit into them, Estelle, I suggest a little more
restraint at table. I will not allow another gown for the Pennworthys' burra
khana."
    "Oh,
I'd forgotten all about the burra khana! But can I at least be measured for the
green georgette, Mama? That is, if Olivia doesn't mind the beige."
    "No,
I don't mind the beige." Olivia's heart sank— another dinner-party?
Did folks in these parts have no other means of entertainment? Since she had
arrived she had been to one, sometimes two, each week and more over weekends.
"In any case, I don't need another dress. I have more than I can use.
Thank you."
    "Estelle
has two other greens. I think you should have the georgette, Olivia," Lady
Bridget said firmly, determined to make no differences between the girls.
"Green suits you well, you know."
    "Oh,
but it suits Estelle better," Olivia said, her eyes twinkling. "As
the dashing Captain Sturges has no doubt already noted."
    Estelle
blushed and tossed a napkin playfully at her cousin. "Well, who cares?
It's you who
has poor Freddie Birkhurst mooning like a lovesick duck, hasn't she,
Mama?"
    "If
Olivia has aroused the interest of Mr. Birkhurst," her mother said with a
smug smile, "I see nothing wrong in that. Your cousin is a very
personable, very eligible young lady with impeccable antecedents on
...," she almost said "on her mother's side"