To Dream of Love Read Free Page A

servants, who were bearing a hamper.
    “Put it on the table,” said the marquess. “And John, ride to the nearest village and bring back a sweep. Double wages if he comes quickly.” He turned to Aunt Rebecca. “Your drawing-room fire will blaze very merrily once the chimney is unblocked, ma’am.”
    “I do not know how to thank you,” said Aunt Rebecca, quite overset. “That a gentleman such as you should see to what straits we …”
    “Madam,” said the marquess firmly. “In that hamper are six bottles of the best port. I am going to open and decant one now. We will all feel much warmer after a glass.”
    As the marquess decanted the wine. Mr. Hudson, much animated by the warmth and the prospect of a glass of port, began to unpack the rest of the hamper, laying the contents out on the kitchen tables. Harriet gazed in a dazed way at all the luxuries that were appearing out of that seemingly bottomless hamper. There was a Westphalia ham, cakes and biscuits of every description, cold pheasant, and loaves of fresh crusty bread.
    “This is rather fun,” announced Mr. Hudson, looking younger and more boyish by the minute. “We shall have a party.”
    “That’s the ticket.” The marquess grinned. “Serve the ladies, Bertram.”
    The “murdered” hens were hung on a hook in the scullery, and Harriet and Aunt Rebecca settled down to a most enjoyable meal. The party was interrupted at one point by the return of John with the sweep, and Holland covers had to be found to protect the meager furniture in the drawing room.
    The marquess talked lightly and easily of the happenings of the day. The newly appointed regent would not enjoy all the power of his father, George III. But he
could
form a government. He had been expected to favor the Whigs and had startled everyone by coming down on the side of the Tories. This brought him many enemies: the Whigs hating him and the Tories still distrusting him. The regent had become deeply religious—although no one expected it to last—and read a chapter or two of the Bible daily with his favorite mistress, Lady Hereford.
    Mellowed by food and wine, Mr. Hudson confessed to ambitions to emulate Lord Byron and read them several of his own poems. Aunt Rebecca assured him that he was
much
better than Lord Byron, and Harriet, who thought the poems were rather dreadful, nonetheless added her praise, since she was relieved to see that the moody Mr. Hudson had a cheerful side to his character.
    At one point, Mr. Hudson showed alarming signs of beginning to ask them why they lived in such poverty, but a warning glance from the marquess silenced him.
    Harriet did not mention Cordelia, because, for the first time, she was realizing the full enormity of her sister’s selfishness and did not even want to speak her name.
    Aunt Rebecca did not mention Cordelia either, for fear of being snubbed by this magnificent marquess in the way she had been snubbed in church.
    More port was drunk to celebrate the relighting of the now-swept drawing-room fire. Seeing a spinet in the corner of the room, Mr. Hudson begged Harriet to sing them a song. The spinet had not been sold because half of the keyboard was stuck down with damp.
    Emboldened by the wine, Harriet sang several pretty ballads in a pleasant soprano. Her hair was now dry, and the one pin, which had proved adequate to keep it up on the top of her head when her hair was wet. finally gave way.
    Her black hair tumbled down about her shoulders, and with an embarrassed laugh, she tried to put it up again, finally spreading her hands in a gesture of resignation.
    The two men stood watching her as she twisted around on the seat of the spinet, the glory of her hair hanging to her waist.
    “ ‘Her beauty made the bright world dim, and everything beside seemed like the fleeting image of a shade,’” quoted Mr. Hudson in a half whisper.
    “We must take our leave,” said the marquess, his eyes suddenly hooded by his heavy lids. “Make your bow,