Saraband for Two Sisters Read Free Page B

looked at her. How like Bersaba to say something serious when we all wanted to be frivolous.
    She went on: ‘Father is disturbed about the ship money.’
    ‘Ship money!’ cried Rozen in dismay. ‘We are talking about fashions!’
    ‘My dear cousin,’ said Bersaba in one of her superior moods, ‘if there is trouble between the King and his Parliament there could be no more fashions.’
    ‘Which one are you?’ said Rozen quite angrily. ‘Bersaba, I’m sure.’
    ‘Of course,’ I answered for her.
    ‘Oh, Angel, do make her shut up,’ said Rozen.
    I folded my arms and smiled at my twin. ‘ I have no control over her,’ I reminded them.
    ‘It’s silly not to face up to what’s happening,’ said Bersaba crossly. ‘You know very well, Angel, that the people who come to see Father are very anxious.’
    ‘They’re always anxious,’ said Gwenifer. ‘The East India men have always complained about something.’
    ‘They’re doing wonderful work for the country,’ I supported my twin.
    ‘Oh, you two and your saintly parents,’ said Gwenifer. ‘Let’s talk about something interesting.’
    ‘So George Kroll is going to speak for Rozen?’ I asked.
    ‘It’s almost certain,’ replied Rozen. ‘And Father will say yes because the Krolls are a good family and Mother will say yes because she thinks George will be a good husband.’
    ‘That’s one ticked off the list,’ said Bersaba.
    ‘What a way to look at it,’ I cried.
    ‘Well, that’s what it is,’ insisted Bersaba. ‘Our turns will come.’
    ‘I shall choose my husband,’ I said firmly.
    ‘And so shall I,’ answered Bersaba equally so.
    So we talked of balls and our cousins examined our clothes and the conversation was on a frivolous level, which pleased me, but I was aware that Bersaba thought it rather foolish. She retired into one of her silences which were so maddening because it seemed as though she were despising us all.
    We dined in the great hall because we were quite a large party—nine in all, for Bastian and Uncle Connell, who had been out on the estate, came home in the late afternoon.
    While we were dressing I said to Bersaba, ‘Let’s wear our blues tonight.’
    She hesitated and a slight smile touched her lips. ‘All right,’ she said.
    ‘We could have some fun,’ I said, ‘pretending I’m you and you’re me.’
    ‘There are some who’ll know the difference.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Well, Mother for instance.’
    ‘Mother always knows.’
    So we wore our blue silk gowns with their boned bodices caught at the waist with sashes of a toning shade of blue, and skirts open to our feet showing satin petticoats; they had lovely long hanging sleeves. We had had them last year, and although they had not been in the height of fashion even then they were becoming.
    ‘We’ll wear our hair piled high,’ said Bersaba.
    ‘They say it is no longer worn like that.’
    ‘It suits our high foreheads,’ she answered, and she was right.
    So we stood side by side laughing at our reflections. Even though we were so accustomed to the likeness it sometimes amused us.
    In the hall Uncle Connell kissed us heartily. He was the sort of man who liked women—all kinds, all ages, all sizes. He was big and blustering, not unlike Grandfather Casvellyn—at least seeing him gave one an idea of what Grandfather Casvellyn must have been like in his youth. Even he, though, sometimes seemed afraid of Grandfather Casvellyn and that made a difference because our grandfather would never have been afraid of anyone. He held us tightly against him and kissed us heartily and he put his hands under my chin and said: ‘Which one are you?’
    I said, ‘I’m Angelet.’
    He answered: ‘Not such an angel if I know anything about it.’
    And everyone laughed.
    ‘And Bersaba, eh? Well, come here, my girl, and give your uncle a kiss.’
    Bersaba went reluctantly, which made Uncle Connell give her two kisses as though repetition could make her like it better.
    I