Free The Land of Summer by Charlotte Bingham Page A

contradiction read
Aubrey & Aubrey Ltd
.
    Staring at the signs, Emmaline called to the driver to stop. Had there been a death in Julius’s family? He had not worn any sign of mourning, no black band, nothing to denote the death of a close relative.
    ‘Carry on, driver, thank you!’
    Shortly afterwards, the carriage stopped in a quiet street and the driver jumped down from his box to help Emmaline alight. As she stood with her skirts gathered up in her hands to protect them from the puddles formed by the thaw the driver knocked at the door of the building outside which he had drawn up his horses, and moments later Emmaline found herself inside a warm and welcoming lodging house, where fires were lit in every visible room, heavy curtains hung closed at the windows to keep out draughts, and gas lamps burned brightly everywhere.
    The woman who showed Emmaline into the drawing room and served her with tea and cakes introduced herself as her landlady, Mrs Shannon.
    ‘I understand that you have entered into an arrangement with Mr Julius Aubrey, a gentleman to whom I am enormously grateful, since he has promised me more business in light of his plans. People will be coming here to see him concerning their homes, to inspect materials and suchlike. Bamford should be most grateful for him, for I understand from his manager Mr Ralph that many of the fine fabrics which were formerly made in Lyons will now be made up here, and will be used by Mr Julius Aubrey in his work, travelling as he does all over England, helping in the restoration of many fine houses.’
    ‘Yes, I understand that Mr Aubrey is more than brilliant at his line of work. He is even now restoring Hartley Abbey for Lord and Lady Parham.’
    ‘I would think that would be a task that will take until kingdom come.’ Mrs Shannon laughed. ‘The Parhams have not been noted for anything except eccentricity for many a century, although they are held in great respect, I believe.’
    She stopped talking suddenly, and leaning forward she touched Emmaline lightly on the arm.
    ‘Are you feeling all right, my dear? You look a little pale.’
    ‘I am in perfect health, thank you,’ Emmaline told her even as a sudden wave of such homesickness swept over her as to make her feel almost faint. ‘Perfect health,’ she repeated, thinking that never had her mother, or her sisters, or Mary, or anyone back home, seemed more dear or more distant.
    ‘You are looking a little peaky after your journey, Miss Nesbitt, if you don’t mind me saying. I would say that you need a little bit of Mrs Shannon’s best looking-after comforts, really you do.’ Mrs Shannon leaned forward once more, and this time put a still motherly but more insistent hand on Emmaline’s arm. ‘Do not fret yourself at all, young lady. You will soon find your land legs in Bamford, really you will. My father was a seagoing sailor, never liked being on land, but even he found his land legs when he settled here. The town is steeply built, that I will grant you, and there is much to be done for the poorer section lower down by the river, but it is a pretty place, most of it built in the early eighteenth century when folk knew how to build elegant houses, not these grand places with every high-falutin’ inconvenience possible. No, the folk in the last century knew what was what. No grandeur, no splendour, just an elegant sufficiency.’
    ‘And Mr Aubrey’s own house?’ Emmaline enquired, as she accepted another slice of her landlady’s delicious sponge cake, more to please her than because she felt in the least bit hungry.
    ‘Of course, you’ll not have seen that yet,’ Mrs Shannon replied, ‘this being your very first visit. It’s in Park Walk, the very best of the avenues in Bamford. There are some exceedingly fine houses there, Miss Nesbitt, Mr Aubrey’s being perhaps the most notable. But no doubt you’ll be seeing it for yourself tomorrow, when Mr Aubrey calls on you here. I should imagine the very