The Phoenix Of Love. Susan Schonberg
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Название: The Phoenix Of Love
Автор: Susan Schonberg
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
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His deep voice, soothing and gentle to her ears, lulled Olivia into a kind of trance. Acting without conscious thought, she nodded as she opened her mouth and softly repeated, “I do.”
Traverston rewarded the child with a smile and turned to face the minister, her hand still firmly held in his own. Olivia glanced back at her father, but he looked as though he had been turned to stone. His eyes never left the marquis’s back.
The ceremony ended quickly. Before leaving the room, the minister signed a piece of paper and handed both pen and paper to the marquis. With quick efficiency, he scrawled his name and title across the page. Next he handed both over to Olivia whom he instructed to do likewise. Finally, Wentworth also signed the page, his handwriting barely legible.
Without saying a word to his host, Wentworth grabbed his daughter by the hand and began pulling her down the aisle at a rapid pace. Olivia looked back over her shoulder to see if the pirate was following her, but he simply stood near the alter and watched them go.
As the pair reached the hallway, Olivia managed to tug herself free from her father. Frustrated and tired, she demanded, “Papa, what was that all about?”
Wentworth did not bother to answer her, but simply regained his grip on his daughter and resumed dragging her toward the great hall. He had one thought and one thought only—to get out of the house as quickly as possible.
Stumbling behind him, Olivia was just about to descend the stairs leading down to their hired carriage when a voice from behind brought them up short. Wentworth took one look at Olivia and ungently pushed her in the direction of the coach. “Get in the carriage,” he commanded. His tone brooked no argument.
The Marquis of Traverston’s tall, lean frame appeared in the giant entrance of his home. “Ah, there you are, Wentworth.” His smile was sardonic, triumphant. Without giving the least hint he was aware of his guest’s discomfort, he paused to take an object out of his coat pocket before continuing. “’Tis a trifle big for her now, but I will expect it to be on her finger when I come for her eight years from now.”
Slowly Wentworth opened the box the marquis had handed him. Inside, a magnificent diamond and sapphire ring rested on a bed of velvet. When Wentworth failed to make a response, Traverston added cuttingly, “The ring was entailed with the estate. It was one of the few things I wasn’t allowed to hock in this crumbling heap. Otherwise, you can be sure, she would have received nothing from me.”
Without a word, Wentworth snapped the box shut and stuffed it into his coat pocket. Traverston noted the speed with which his guest raced down the stairs was most unbecoming to a gentleman. Pleased with Wentworth’s reaction, the marquis smiled. His new father-in-law had acted as though he were being chased by all the devils in hell. Good, he nodded to himself complacently. It would be nice to have some company when he got there.
Olivia sat before the solicitor, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her black bombazine dress trimmed with the faintest smattering of lace, more appropriate on a widow of advanced years than on a young miss still very much in the schoolroom, loudly proclaimed to all and sundry her state of mourning.
It wasn’t that she was pretentious, thought the middle-aged gentleman sitting across his desk from her. Olivia just genuinely seemed to have preferred that particular style of gown above all others. He should know: his wife had helped her choose it. Still she looked neat and tidy. He studied her openly from his vantage point.
Olivia was a beautiful child, of that there could be no doubt. But her beauty lacked something. Mr. Potts’s frown deepened as he tried to ponder what that missing element might be. Then he had it. She lacked fire. Olivia was simply not a spirited child. Oh, no. And she was not your typical twelve-year-old, either.
Mr. Potts continued his analysis of the girl, careful to keep his scrutiny away from his visitor’s eyes. Olivia’s icy blue eyes unnerved her solicitor. Whatever thoughts she might have had on the matter at hand were carefully locked away behind those cool eyes. They absorbed everything around them and gave absolutely nothing back.
The rest of her face, while equally noncommittal, was much less disturbing to him. He studied her finely chiseled features and then frowned. She might as well have been a wall for all the information her attitude gave away to him.
Nervously Mr. Potts cleared his throat. He had thought this interview would be rather simple, really. Just give the chit the get-go and be done with it. Faced with her impenetrable silence, however, he wasn’t sure the task would be as easy as he had first imagined. He cleared his throat again, loosening his cravat with one finger. No, this wasn’t going to be easy. If only she wouldn’t stare at him so!
Thankfully, Olivia was getting rather impatient with her lawyer. She decided to have pity on him, if only to get the conversation moving. “You found a place for me to go.” Her voice, although still childish in pitch, sounded strangely grown-up. She didn’t phrase the sentence as a question. She simply stated what she knew to be true.
Mr. Potts jumped for the olive branch with startling quickness. “Yes!” he said in a relieved voice. Belatedly regaining some of his composure, he sat back in his chair pretending an ease he didn’t feel. “Yes,” he repeated more calmly.
In his element now that the topic had been broached, the solicitor pushed his spectacles to the bridge of his nose and looked condescendingly down at the girl before him. In the space of a few heartbeats, he managed to go from his impersonation of a nervous Nellie to that of a schoolmarm.
“As you know, my dear,” began the man somewhat fatuously, “it has been well over a month now since your poor father died.” Here he took the time to give Olivia a sympathetic look. “And you have borne your bereavement well. Nay! Better than well. You have been exemplary in your conduct.”
He paused and glanced at her meaningfully.
If Mr. Potts had expected Olivia to be flattered by his words, he was sadly disappointed. In truth, she thought him a pompous old windbag and an insufferable bore. But rather than voice these opinions out loud, she kept silent. Her expression gave away none of her thoughts.
Again Mr. Potts cleared his throat, trying to regain his earlier equanimity. After glancing briefly at Olivia over the top of his spectacles, he continued his speech. “But now the time has come for you to leave your humble abode and go on with your life. Yes.” He nodded like a silly ass. “That’s it exactly.”
Olivia’s heart skipped a beat at his words. Oh, she knew that the inevitable must happen, but did it have to happen right now? Stoically she kept her external appearance of composure, though on the inside she was seething.
This conversation could only be taking place if her solicitor had found someone willing to act as her guardian. Who was this person and what did they want with her? Didn’t she do a good job of taking care of the manor? Maddie had died, it was true, but she got along just fine, thank you. Besides, she preferred to be alone. Olivia longed to say the words, but she knew they were futile.
Instead she inquired, “Where am I to go?”
Mr. Potts, relieved that Olivia appeared to be taking all of this so СКАЧАТЬ