Free The Gossamer Cord by Philippa Carr Page B

life as was sometimes the case. One of his legs was bandaged.
    Dermot came forward smiling.
    “Do come in,” said Mrs. Lewyth. “James…” She turned to the man in the chair. “These are the young ladies.”
    We approached the chair. I thought he must be in his sixties. He had rather penetrating eyes, very lively, very shrewd, and I had a feeling that he was regarding us somewhat mischievously, for his chin moved a little, as though he were finding it difficult to suppress secret laughter.
    Dermot had come to stand between us. He put an arm through mine as he did with Dorabella.
    “Father,” he said. “This is Violetta and this is Dorabella.”
    The old man’s eyes were on Dorabella…assessing her…rather boldly, I thought…appreciatively?
    “My dears,” he said in a very musical voice, “you must forgive my not rising. This accursed gout. It is devilishly incapacitating at times.”
    “It is so kind of you to invite us here,” said Dorabella. “We are really very excited to be here.”
    His eyes were turned on me.
    “Twin sisters,” he said. “That is interesting. You must tell me about yourselves…sometime…”
    Matilda Lewyth came forward.
    “Please sit down and tell me what you would like to drink. Dorabella, you sit there near Mr. Tregarland. Violetta…you here.”
    My parents arrived then.
    “I am glad you sent that nice maid to bring us down,” said my mother. “We should have been lost otherwise.”
    I watched the introductions and Mr. Tregarland’s interest in my parents.
    When we were all seated we were given our drinks, and the conversation was of that conventional nature which is often employed when people meet for the first time. The differences between Hampshire and Cornwall were discussed, the journey, the state of the government, and all the time I was wondering what old Mr. Tregarland and Mrs. Lewyth were really thinking about us; and whether they were as eager to welcome Dorabella into the family as they seemed to imply.
    Then Gordon Lewyth arrived.
    I knew who he was, of course, because Dermot had explained the family to us and had referred more than once to Gordon Lewyth; but I was unprepared for such a man.
    He was dark-haired and tall—being well over six feet—which gave him a commanding appearance. He was also broad-shouldered, which accentuated that certain effect of power.
    Matilda Lewyth rose and cried: “Gordon…my dear.” She went to him and he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Our visitors,” she added.
    He shook hands with my father and then my mother.
    “These are the twins—Violetta and Dorabella,” said Matilda Lewyth.
    His handshake was firm and strong.
    “We are pleased to see you,” he said. I wondered if it was a little like the royal “we.” Was he a little arrogant? I wondered. I thought he might be. There was a nonchalance about him, which might have been deliberate, as though he were telling us that although he said he was pleased, that was merely for the sake of convention and he was quite indifferent to our presence.
    “Dinner is about to be served,” said Matilda, and I had an idea that we had been waiting for his arrival.
    “Then let us go straight in,” he said.
    I noticed that his attention was on Dorabella. She seemed a little flustered, but pleased, and aware of his attention. I imagined he was not assessing her charms so much as wondering what such an acquisition to the family would mean.
    We went into the dining room. Dorabella was seated between Dermot and his father. Next to me was Gordon Lewyth and on the other side of him my mother.
    I noticed his strong hands. He emanated strength, and I wondered what his position was here. It was true that Matilda Lewyth was treated like a member of the family, but I guessed they might be poor relations. Perhaps a deep consciousness of this fact might account for his determination to assert his importance. It was almost imperceptible, it was true, but it was there.
    And what was his real