A Woman of Substance. Barbara Taylor BradfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
antiques. Fine Persian rugs threw rafts of vibrant red and dark blue Jewel tones across the polished wood floor, and a selection of rare hunting prints graced the walls not covered with the many bookshelves. A comfortable Chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a leather the colour of tawny ruby wine, was positioned next to the intricately carved oak fireplace, along with several deep wing chairs of dark wine velvet. Nearby, an ebony library table was heaped with newspapers, journals, and illustrated magazines, and in one corner a black-walnut chest held a silver tray of crystal decanters filled with port, brandy, sherry, whisky, and gin, as well as leaded crystal Waterford glasses that glittered in the faint grey light.
The library had never been quite as ponderous as the other rooms in Fairley Hall, and Adam had always fought his wife’s desire to overload it with bric-à-brac and ‘folderols’, as he disdainfully called her other decorative trinkets. In consequence, the room had a degree of graciousness and dignity, albeit a dignity that was masculine. Like his bedroom, which was somewhat more austere, it perfectly reflected his character and his tastes. Adam spent most of his time in the library, unless they were entertaining guests, which was rare these days, and it had become his haven, where he thankfully retreated to read and meditate, undisturbed in his solitariness.
He took out his pocket watch and looked at the time. It was almost seven-thirty and he had seen no sign of the servants, except for the forlorn maid cleaning the morning room. Cursing the housekeeper’s absence, he tugged on the bell pull and glared with irritation at the cold and empty grate. As he waited for Murgatroyd to appear, the photogravure of himself in the dress uniform of the Fourth Hussars caught his eye. He turned and bent to look at it more fully, pursing his lips as he scrutinized it intently. He smiled ruefully. What a face! So full of anticipation, expectation, and yes, even happiness. He hardly recognized it as himself.
Murgatroyd knocked on the door and entered the room, interrupting Adam’s thoughts. ‘Good morning, Murgatroyd,’ he said in his cool voice.
The butler advanced towards him smoothly, adjusting his black jacket. ‘Good morning, Squire. I trust yer slept well, sir. Fine day it is today, for yer journey ter Leeds. Sunny and dry and hardly no wind at all. Cook’ll be ready with yer breakfast shortly. She’s preparing yer a kipper, sir.’ This was said with such obsequiousness Adam winced and averted his face, so that Murgatroyd would not see the look of disgust in his eyes.
When Adam made no response, the butler went on, ‘Is there owt else yer’ll be wanting, sir, besides the kipper, I mean?’
Unctuous fool, Adam thought, now looking at Murgatroyd fully. ‘A fire would be desirable, I think.’
‘Begging yer pardon, sir?’ Murgatroyd seemed flustered. He glanced swiftly at the empty grate and condemned Emma under his breath.
‘A fire, Murgatroyd!’ Adam repeated. ‘It’s cold enough in here to freeze the balls off a brass monkey—’ Adam stopped and coughed behind his hand, a flicker of amusement touching his eyes as he noted Murgatroyd’s discomfort. ‘Ahem! Well, let me put it this way. The atmosphere in this room is comparable only to the Arctic this morning. It seems to me that I employ enough servants to run a battleship and yet it appears that I cannot get a few simple amenities.’ Annoyed as he was, this was said in Adam’s usual self-contained way, for he rarely displayed temperament with anyone, least of all the servants.
Bloody hell! He’s in a right proper mood this morning, Murgatroyd thought, and said in an oily voice, ‘I’m ever so sorry, sir, I am indeed. Polly’s badly and the other lass was late. I don’t know, if I’m not standing over ’em every minute of the day these lasses do nowt. I told yon lass ter light the fire in here ages ago, I did th—’
‘What’s wrong with you, man? Are you crippled?’ Adam interjected softly, but his eyes were like icy pools.
A startled expression flashed across Murgatroyd’s dolorous face. ‘No! No, of course not, sir. I’ll attend ter it right sharpish, Squire,’ he said hurriedly, bowing subserviently several times in a jerky fashion.
‘Yes. Do!’
‘Right away, Squire.’ He bowed again and backed out of the room.
‘Oh, Murgatroyd!’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Did the navvy arrive from Leeds? Young O’Neill.’
‘Yes, sir. Came by this morning, early, he did. I’ve given him the list of repairs.’
‘Good. See he has everything he needs to do the job right. And make sure he has the facilities of the kitchen. Plenty of food and the like.’
Murgatroyd nodded, surprised at the Squire’s concern about a mere labourer. It both baffled and interested him. ‘Yes, sir. Yer can rely on me, as always. I’ll handle it. By the by, Squire, what shall I be paying him for his week’s work?’ His crafty eyes did not leave Adam’s face.
Adam frowned. ‘I told you last night he was to receive one guinea for his work. Is your memory failing you, man?’
‘No, sir. It must’ve slipped me mind, that’s all.’
‘I see. Well, no harm done. In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you would attend to the fire immediately. I am rapidly turning into a block of ice. And I would like a cup of hot tea, Murgatroyd, if that’s not too difficult to accomplish.’
The edge to Adam’s voice did not go unnoticed by the butler. ‘Right away, sir,’ he said, bowing. He turned and scurried out, full of venom for Cook and the maids, and not so kindly disposed towards the Squire either. All that there tippling in the dead of night, that’s what makes him liverish, he mumbled under his breath as he closed the door softly behind him.
Adam gazed at the door. Murgatroyd was developing a peculiar tendency to forget conversations about money, especially when related to wages for the outside workers, who came to the Hall from time to time. The butler was too parsimonious by far and it bothered him. Also, Adam, who thought Murgatroyd was an ignorant man, suspected that the butler was a tyrant in his own domain downstairs.
He shook his head and turned again to his youthful portrait. He did not need to see that face to be reminded of his abandoned military career. It had been much on his mind recently. He had come to believe that his life would have been so very different if he had followed his lodestar, and not turned away from it, out of loyalty to his father. It was too late for regrets, but, nevertheless, he had them.
As he stood there in the dark cold room a mental image of himself as a youth flashed into his mind’s eye. He saw the thin intense boy he had been, home from Eton for the holidays, announcing to his father, with a fervency bordering on fanaticism, his intention of entering the army. His father had not only been flabbergasted but strongly, and vehemently, opposed to the idea, which he refused to countenance.
Adam recalled how unwavering his determination had been, how his dogged persistence and all manner of persuasive tactics had eventually convinced his father that he was sincere. The old Squire had finally succumbed and grudgingly agreed to let him take the entrance examination for Sandhurst, which he had passed with no problem. The old man really behaved quite decently, Adam now thought, and with a certain fondness, as he remembered his father.
The old Squire, Richard Fairley, had been a hearty, blustering Yorkshireman, one of the most powerful and richest industrialists in the North of England, with a gambler’s instinct for the main chance, a shrewd eye for business, and a mind as sharp as a steel blade. Once Adam had proved himself to be an exemplary cadet at the military academy, he had thrown all of his power and money behind his son. When Adam expressed a desire to join a cavalry regiment, being an incomparable horseman, Richard Fairley had left no stone unturned to accomplish this end. Through his wealth and his political connections he had obtained a place for Adam in the Fourth Hussars. He could easily afford the expense of two hundred pounds a year a commission in the cavalry entailed, along with the cost and upkeep of two horses and a string of polo ponies, which he had bought for his younger son. Being an astute observer of human nature, the old Squire had come to recognize that Adam had all the natural attributes of character a soldier required. He