Free The Shrouded Walls by Susan Howatch Page A

pages. “And have you known him long?”
    “About a month.”
    “I see.” She went on looking at the magazine. “So you don’t know him well.”
    “Well enough,” I said, “by this time.”
    She must have read some meaning into my words which I did not intend, for she glanced up sharply, her beautiful mouth curving in a smile, her unusual eyes sparkling with amusement. “Yes,” she said, “I’ve no doubt you do. If George had anything in common with Rodric, it was his talent for making himself extremely well known to any woman he fancied in the shortest possible time.”
    If I had been less angry I might have thought how odd it was that Rodric’s name was spoken so often in this house, but I was too incensed by the implications of her remark to notice this at the time. I sat facing her, she a poised woman well accustomed to the intricacies of drawing room conversation, I perhaps thirty years her junior but much too furious to be intimidated by her maturity and experience.
    “All young men need to sow their wild oats,” I said coolly, repeating a phrase my father had often used. “If Axel hadn’t sown his in his youth I would have thought him strange indeed. I hardly think I need add that his behavior, towards me has always been exemplary in every respect.”
    “Of course,” said Esther. “Naturally.” She smiled. “No doubt he now wishes to settle down and be a satisfactory husband. And father.”
    I did not answer.
    “He is anxious for children, of course?”
    I was certainly not going to tell her it was a subject we had never discussed.
    “Yes,” I said, “especially now that he owns Haraldsdyke.”
    The door opened. I glanced up, expecting to see Mary returning with the shawl, but it was Alice who stood on the threshold. She had changed her gown, and the style did not flatter her condition so that her pregnancy was very obvious.
    I had a sudden, inexplicable longing to escape from that room and those women.
    “Will you excuse me?” I said politely to Esther. “I am afraid the long journey has made me more than usually tired. I think it best if I retired to bed now.”
    They were both extremely solicitous. Of course I should rest and recover my strength. Was there anything either of them could do for me? Anything which could be sent up to my room from the kitchens? Could I find my way back to my room unaided?
    “We so want you to feel at home here,” said Alice. “We so want you to feel welcome.”
    I thanked her, assured them there was nothing further I needed, and escaped as courteously as possible with a candle in my hand to light the way down the long corridors.
    I reached the door of our suite of rooms without difficulty and then paused as I heard the sound of voices raised in argument. The door of the sitting room, or boudoir, was ajar and a shaft of light slanted out across the dark passage before me.
    I stopped.
    “You think too much of Rodric,” I heard Axel say, and his voice was harsh and cold. “It’s time you stopped idolizing his memory and saw him as he really was. You’re nineteen and yet you behave like a young schoolboy moonstruck by the current School Hero. Rodric wasn’t the saint you imagine him to be, neither was he the crusader in shining armor, fighting for truth. He was a misfit who could not or would not conform.”
    “You were always jealous of him.” Ned’s voice was low and trembling. “You pretended to be friendly so that he was deceived, but you never liked him. You were Father’s favorite until you went back to Vienna and then when you returned later on you found Rodric had taken your place. You resented him from the moment you saw he meant more to Father than you did—”
    “What childish nonsense you talk!”
    “And you hated Father for rejecting you because you chose to live in Vienna—you wanted to pay him back at all costs—and pay Rodric back for usurping you ...”
    “I’m beginning to think you want another thrashing. Be very careful,