no decent girl ever did unless she was wed? Emily thought of her mother and the baby brother she suspected wasn’t Pa’s; Ma had only got wed because a baby was on the way. She felt confused and uncomfortable. Emily’s cheeks burned and she couldn’t look at the girl. Carla couldn’t be more than a few months older than Emily. She felt embarrassed by the girl’s confidence and thought she must have heard her wrong or was imagining more than was meant.
She was relieved when her father came out with Carla’s father. They were carrying an exquisite little seat – or sofa. Emily wasn’t sure what to call it because there were three seats back to back, which made a circle. As they loaded it on the back of the cart and then went back for more, Carla jumped down and ran into the pub, taking Emily’s empty glass with her.
Pa came out twice more with a couple of single chairs and a round table with a pedestal and three pad feet. The table was dark mahogany and she knew it was a wine table, because Pa had bought them before, but most were not as nice as this one.
He shook hands with Josh and climbed up onto the wagon next to Emily, taking the reins from her. As they drew away from the side of the road, he turned to her with a look of satisfaction.
‘That’s a Victorian love seat that is,’ he told her, jerking his head towards the attractive seat. ‘It needs covering but then it will be pretty and worth a few bob. Might be out of fashion now, Em, but one day people will want them again.’
‘Yes, I expect so,’ she said, looking at him fondly.
Pa might have his moods and she got cold waiting around for him sometimes, but she loved being with him and she would miss him if things had to change.
She wouldn’t want to be Carla and she was glad she didn’t have a lover. She thought the girl was silly to boast about it and wondered if it were true.
For a brief moment she recalled seeing her talking to Derek as she and Pa drove by the pub, then she dismissed the thought. Derek couldn’t be her lover, could he? No, Carla had too much sense to get involved with a man like that – hadn’t she?
‘Cat got your tongue?’
Pa’s jest brought Emily’s attention back to him. What did it matter what Carla Bracknell got up to? Suddenly she didn’t care that it was cold and her toes felt frozen. They would soon be home and the kitchen would be warm. Emily smiled to herself; she was content as she was for the moment.
Chapter 8
Amy Barton glanced at herself in her elegant dressing mirror. It had been a Christmas gift from her mother and was set in a silver frame with trails of vine leaves and flowers embossed on the frame in art nouveau style, and bought from Asprey of London. Amy had been particularly delighted with it, because she did like nice things. Of course Grandmama had some good things, but so much of the furniture was old-fashioned. Amy longed for the modern world with all its innovations. Here at Priorsfield, convention and the tradition of years trapped her. Grandmama still clung to her carriage and the horses needed to draw it, though her father had spoken of purchasing an automobile when he could afford it. Of course Jonathan already had a car, which he’d purchased with money left him by his paternal grandfather.
Amy made a sound of frustration. If only her father had not lost most of his money. Perhaps then she would have had the Season she craved, which she felt sure would have resulted in a good marriage for her. She was quite determined to marry into money, because she disliked the idea of being poor. It was bad enough having to watch what she spent on clothes and to live in this mausoleum of a house – but to be stuck in a marriage without sufficient money would be unbearable.
If Grandmama were not so mean she would have paid for Amy to have a London Season, but she refused to give Mama the money they needed. Sighing, Amy realised that her best chance of making the kind of marriage she wanted was
She was relieved when her father came out with Carla’s father. They were carrying an exquisite little seat – or sofa. Emily wasn’t sure what to call it because there were three seats back to back, which made a circle. As they loaded it on the back of the cart and then went back for more, Carla jumped down and ran into the pub, taking Emily’s empty glass with her.
Pa came out twice more with a couple of single chairs and a round table with a pedestal and three pad feet. The table was dark mahogany and she knew it was a wine table, because Pa had bought them before, but most were not as nice as this one.
He shook hands with Josh and climbed up onto the wagon next to Emily, taking the reins from her. As they drew away from the side of the road, he turned to her with a look of satisfaction.
‘That’s a Victorian love seat that is,’ he told her, jerking his head towards the attractive seat. ‘It needs covering but then it will be pretty and worth a few bob. Might be out of fashion now, Em, but one day people will want them again.’
‘Yes, I expect so,’ she said, looking at him fondly.
Pa might have his moods and she got cold waiting around for him sometimes, but she loved being with him and she would miss him if things had to change.
She wouldn’t want to be Carla and she was glad she didn’t have a lover. She thought the girl was silly to boast about it and wondered if it were true.
For a brief moment she recalled seeing her talking to Derek as she and Pa drove by the pub, then she dismissed the thought. Derek couldn’t be her lover, could he? No, Carla had too much sense to get involved with a man like that – hadn’t she?
‘Cat got your tongue?’
Pa’s jest brought Emily’s attention back to him. What did it matter what Carla Bracknell got up to? Suddenly she didn’t care that it was cold and her toes felt frozen. They would soon be home and the kitchen would be warm. Emily smiled to herself; she was content as she was for the moment.
Chapter 8
Amy Barton glanced at herself in her elegant dressing mirror. It had been a Christmas gift from her mother and was set in a silver frame with trails of vine leaves and flowers embossed on the frame in art nouveau style, and bought from Asprey of London. Amy had been particularly delighted with it, because she did like nice things. Of course Grandmama had some good things, but so much of the furniture was old-fashioned. Amy longed for the modern world with all its innovations. Here at Priorsfield, convention and the tradition of years trapped her. Grandmama still clung to her carriage and the horses needed to draw it, though her father had spoken of purchasing an automobile when he could afford it. Of course Jonathan already had a car, which he’d purchased with money left him by his paternal grandfather.
Amy made a sound of frustration. If only her father had not lost most of his money. Perhaps then she would have had the Season she craved, which she felt sure would have resulted in a good marriage for her. She was quite determined to marry into money, because she disliked the idea of being poor. It was bad enough having to watch what she spent on clothes and to live in this mausoleum of a house – but to be stuck in a marriage without sufficient money would be unbearable.
If Grandmama were not so mean she would have paid for Amy to have a London Season, but she refused to give Mama the money they needed. Sighing, Amy realised that her best chance of making the kind of marriage she wanted was
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