The Rich Man's Bride. CATHERINE GEORGEЧитать онлайн книгу.

      The fog thickened with every mile on the road through the Marches. When a break in the swirling mist revealed the signpost she was looking for, Anna turned off to drive at a snail’s pace through the familiar maze of intersecting roads and sighed with relief when she saw lights in Keeper’s Cottage. She drew up in the lane behind the car parked at the gate and got out, smiling guiltily as her father hurried down the path to greet her.

      ‘Hi, Dr Morton. They passed my message on at the surgery, then.’

      ‘By the time I got it you were well on your way so I didn’t risk ringing back.’ His voice was gruff with anxiety as he gave her a hug. ‘What in heaven’s name possessed you to drive from London alone so soon, Anna? And in this weather!’

      ‘Clare intended coming with me, but she started sneezing yesterday and stayed the night with her ex to avoid giving me her germs.’

      ‘Sensible girl, your landlady,’ he approved, taking her suitcase. ‘I’ve turned the heating up to maximum, so come in quickly and get warm. If I’d known you were so determined to come, I would have fetched you.’

      ‘Which is precisely why I didn’t tell you, Dad. You lead a busy enough life as it is without flogging up to London and back for the umpteenth time again,’ she said as he hurried her inside. ‘I wanted to save a hard-worked doctor the trouble.’

      ‘I am not recovering from pneumonia! And you look like a ghost.’ Her father took her pulse, then went into the kitchen to switch on the kettle. ‘I called at the village shop for eggs and milk and so on for your breakfast and the kitchen cupboards are still stocked with Father’s staples. But I’ll drive you to the Red Lion for dinner as soon as you’ve unpacked and Tom can bring you back afterwards. He should be there soon.’

      Anna gave him a coaxing smile as he spooned tea-leaves into a warmed pot. ‘Dad, please don’t be hurt, but I’m too tired for that tonight. I promise I’ll eat supper, but after that I’m off to bed. Otherwise I won’t be up to much tomorrow. Apologise to my big brother.’

      John Morton looked ready to argue, but in the end he nodded reluctantly and patted her cheek. ‘All right, pet. An early night is probably a better idea for you. But promise me you’ll eat first.’

      Anna held up her hand. ‘I do solemnly swear that I shall scramble some eggs. And then I’ll have a bath and go to bed with a book. What time is the service tomorrow?’

      ‘Twelve noon, then back to the Red Lion afterwards. Father’s idea. He gave me his funeral instructions a while ago, complete with choice of hymns.’ John cleared his throat. ‘To save me any bother when the time came, he told me.’

      ‘Oh, Dad,’ whispered Anna, her eyes filling. Her father held her tightly for a moment, then took her suitcase up to her room.

      ‘I’m really not happy about leaving you alone here tonight, Anna,’ he said forcibly when he came down. ‘If I’d known you meant to come, Tom and I could have stayed here with you. We still could, for that matter.’

      She smiled ruefully. ‘Dad, don’t be offended, but just this once I really need to be on my own here.’

      He touched a hand to her cheek. ‘I understand. Now, I’d better go. But, for God’s sake, ring if you feel ill.’

      ‘Dad, I’ll be fine!’

      ‘I hope so.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll be round in the morning early to make sure you’ve had breakfast.’

      Anna waved him off, then suddenly so weary she needed to hang on to the rope looped through rings fastened in the wall she went upstairs. When she made it to the top she leaned in the open doorway of her grandfather’s room for a moment to catch her breath. Formal photographs of herself and Tom at their degree ceremonies stood on the chest of drawers, alongside a small snapshot of them with Ryder Wyndham, all three youngsters grinning in triumph as they held up the trout they’d caught. She gazed at it through a mist of tears, then scrubbed at her eyes, blew her nose and went next door to her own room to unpack a black suit she normally wore to work. Black was no longer mandatory for funerals these days, but her grandfather would have expected his family to show proper respect. And no one deserved it more than Hector Morton.

      In the bathroom later Anna’s eyebrows rose in surprise. The expensive fittings and gleaming white paint were all new since her last visit. Her mouth tightened as she went downstairs. The squire certainly believed in keeping up the value on his property. Just a few months previously the small kitchen had been fitted with new cupboards and appliances and the overpowering black of the overhead beams shot-blasted back to the original wood throughout the house to add light. And it still amazed her that so much trouble had been taken over a tied cottage. Hector Morton had once been head gamekeeper of the estate, it was true. His original home had been a sizeable house which went with the job, but after his wife died he’d requested a move to Keeper’s Cottage, which Anna fell in love with at the age of eight because it looked like something from Hansel and Gretel. The exterior’s wreathing wisteria and latticed windows still retained the fairy-tale look, but since the renovations the interior looked like something from a magazine.

      Anna went to the pantry to fetch eggs for her supper and discovered that part of the room had been partitioned off to create a brand-new shower cubicle. She began to laugh and ran to the parlour, fully expecting to find the giant inglenook fireplace transformed into a conservatory at the very least. But here all was more or less familiar. The two sofas had new fawn slip covers but they still faced each other in front of the big fireplace, with the familiar little Jacobean table in its place between them, and four Windsor chairs were still grouped with a small folding dining table against the inner wall. The shock discovery here was a brand-new television.

      Anna rang her father before starting on her supper. ‘What on earth has been going on here, Dad?’

      ‘I thought you’d enjoy the surprise,’ John said, chuckling. ‘The bathroom had a makeover when the shower went in downstairs, but I’m to blame for the television. I bought it when Father had that bout of flu and couldn’t go out—though I doubt that he ever watched anything other than newscasts.’

      ‘I doubt it, too! Love to Tom. I’ll see you both in the morning.’

      After supper Anna had a quick bath, then pulled on pyjamas and fleece dressing gown and went to work on her hair, praying that a good night’s sleep would do something for the circles under her eyes. But once she was settled against stacked pillows later she felt a lot better, as she always did the moment she was through the door of Keeper’s Cottage.

      True to his word, John Morton arrived at nine next morning to find his daughter at the table, reading yesterday’s paper. She smiled smugly as she held her face up for his kiss.

      ‘There!’ She showed him the remains of her toast and marmalade. ‘I’ve eaten breakfast. Have you?’

      ‘Far too much.’ He patted his spare midriff ruefully.

      ‘What’s Tom doing?’

      ‘I told him to have a lie-in for once, but he’s up now. When I left he was wolfing down everything the Red Lion had to offer.’ John glanced at the paper Anna had been reading. ‘I thought I’d cancelled that.’

      ‘It’s mine. I brought it with me.’ She handed him a cup of tea. ‘Sit down for a minute, Dad. There’s something I want to say.’

      His dark eyes narrowed anxiously. ‘That sounds ominous!’

      ‘Not really.’ She braced herself. ‘It’s just that if Ryder Wyndham gives me permission I’d like to do my convalescing here at the cottage.’

      Her father frowned. ‘But this place is a bit isolated, Anna. Are you sure it’s a good idea?’