The Favourite Child Read Free Page B

climb into the loneliness of her marital bed each evening. Disappointing was the only word Emily could find to describe every facet of her life. Was it any wonder if she lacked confidence even to give proper instructions to her own servants, or express her opinion on any matter which may provoke dispute. Emily had long since given up hope that anybody would listen to her. So any opportunity she could find to express her bitterness, she did so with relish.
    ‘You shame us all with your recklessness. What your father’s views on the matter will be, I shudder to contemplate.’
    As one, the eyes of the two women swivelled to where Simeon himself stood in his favourite spot before the blazing fire, hands clasped behind his back in his usual stance, rocking on his heels from time to time as he listened, without comment, to his wife’s words. Yet he seemed encouragingly relaxed, Bella noticed. But then Pa was rarely anything else.
    It was one of the things she loved best about her father, that and his comfortable girth. Just to look at him made her want to put her arms about him and give him a cuddle. He was a dumpy little man with a round, smiling face topped by crinkly red-gold hair very like her own in colour, save for being better controlled with a splash of daily Brylcreem. He was the dearest, sweetest man, with the patience of a saint and, as both mother and daughter were only too aware, would make no detrimental remark upon anything Isabella chose to do. This was partly because above all things Simeon detested a scene but mainly because his beloved daughter could do no wrong in his eyes. However dictatorial he may be with the operatives at the mill, and however thrifty with his hard earned brass, in the hands of the women in his own family, he was soft as putty. He believed it to be the man’s task in life to protect and indulge his women folk, and not a soul in the entire household from Tilly the house maid, through the redoubtable Mrs Dyson to his dear wife, or more particularly his only son and heir, were in any doubt that Isabella was his favourite.
    What he said to her now, in his gently scolding tones, was that this was no laughing matter. ‘I’ll not have your dear mother’s plans thrown into disarray because of your fads and fancies. I tolerate a good deal of your reckless, unladylike behaviour but ill manners distress me. You should know that by now.’
    ‘Yes Father.’ Bella flew to his side to place a loving kiss on his whiskered chin.
    ‘I live in hope that one day this overdeveloped social conscience of yours will ease and you will take your rightful place in up-and-coming Manchester society.’
    ‘Yes Father,’ she said again, attempting to sound contrite. ‘And in the meantime - about Jinnie? She can stay?’
    ‘What does she think of this plan of yours?’
    ‘I haven’t discussed it with her yet but I’m sure she’ll be grateful.’
    ‘Is that why you’re doing it, for her gratitude?’
    A dull rose pink suffused Bella’s cheeks. ‘Of course not. As if I would. You surely know me better than that.’
    Simeon heaved a sigh of resignation. ‘She may stay for two days. Not a second longer.’
    ‘Dearest Pa, no wonder I adore you,’ and flinging her arms about his neck, rained yet more kisses upon his ruddy cheeks while he tut-tutted in pretended protest.
    Emily put one hand to her throat and made a small choking sound. ‘You’re to give in to this daft folly of hers? As always?’
    ‘Her kindness may be inconvenient for us, Emily, but it is well meant. No worse surely than my funding the Christmas Breakfast at the chapel?’
    ‘That is entirely different,’ Emily stormed, screwing her handkerchief into a tight ball in her fist. ‘You sponsor the Breakfast out of a right and proper sense of duty, and at no risk to yourself. Isabella takes her life in her hands every time she walks alone through those dreadful streets.’
    Simeon turned his benevolent gaze upon his daughter, peering