Banishment (Daughters of Mannerling 1) Read Online Free

knows when one will need loyalty.’
    ‘My father is a fair master and pays the wages promptly each quarter-day.’
    ‘Money again. I fear you love only material things, Miss Beverley. Your soul is made up of bricks and mortar and money – oh, and woods and trees, too, if carefully domesticated and put into pleasing vistas.’
    ‘Really, my lord, I wonder you care for my company as you are so highly critical of me!’
    ‘You forget your exceptional beauty.’
    ‘I am tired,’ said Isabella abruptly, ‘and wish to return.’
    ‘We shall take tea with my aunt first. She will enjoy your company.’
    ‘Perhaps another time . . .’
    ‘I told her to expect you, and old ladies are not to be disappointed.’
    And so Isabella, after they had returned to the stables and dismounted, found herself meekly accompanying him into his home.
    She was pleased, for she had taken him in dislike because of his criticisms, to notice that his house was not particularly richly furnished. In the drawing room the paintings were all dark hunting scenes or landscapes, badly in need of cleaning. It was then that she remembered her father taking all the jewels to London. How very odd. But then her attention was taken by a small square lady with a round red face who had risen to meet her. ‘Aunt, may I present Miss Beverley, our neighbour,’ said the viscount. ‘Miss Beverley, my Aunt Mary, Mrs Kennedy.’
    ‘Sure and it’s the beauty you are,’ said Mrs Kennedy, beaming up at Isabella. ‘Come sit yourself down and give me your crack.’
    How terribly vulgar she is, thought Isabella, feeling more superior by the minute. She sat next to Mrs Kennedy on the sofa and accepted a cup of tea. Mrs Kennedy blew noisily on her tea before drinking it with noisy slurps.
    ‘Ah, that’s better, sure it is,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Nothing like a dish of tay. Did you enjoy your ride, Miss Bever1ey.’
    ‘Yes, I thank you, ma’am.’
    ‘And try the fruit-cake, do. I made it meself wit’ me own hands. Do you bake, Miss Beverley?’
    Isabella gave a little laugh. ‘I leave such things to the servants, Mrs Kennedy.’
    ‘Ah, but to be a good mistress you should be able to do everything your servants can do and better. Is that not the truth now, Guy?’
    ‘Not this generation, Aunt Mary,’ said the viscount. ‘You are sadly out of touch with fashionable ladies. A fashionable lady never even opens the door for herself.’
    ‘Now that’s a crying shame,’ said Mrs Kennedy.
    ‘I see no reason for an unnecessary training in house-keeping,’ said Isabella firmly.
    ‘You might not always have servants . . .’ began Mrs Kennedy, and to Isabella’s surprise the old lady promptly fell silent after a warning look from her nephew. But the viscount had surely warned his aunt that she was in danger of being impertinent. Isabella began to talk easily about the ball at Mannerling, of the courses served at supper, of the music, of how everyone had fallen in love with Mannerling.
    ‘There are six of you,’ said Mrs Kennedy. ‘The six beautiful daughters of Mannerling. Did nobody fall in love with any of you? Or was the love all for the house?’
    God spare me from the Irish, thought Isabella, feeling cross again. She rose to her feet and said, ‘I really must leave. My sisters and mother will be wondering what has become of me.’
    ‘Then you must call again, m’dear,’ said Mrs Kennedy warmly. ‘You know the way.’
    Her mare was once more saddled up and she and the viscount made their staid way to Mannerling. He again pointed out various repairs that were taking place, and how he planned to drain the six acre, idle, harmless country chit-chat which made Isabella feel quite in charity with him.
    She made her goodbyes. He refused her polite invitation to step indoors for some refreshment. He bowed, said he would call on her quite soon, and swung his athletic body up into the saddle.
    Isabella went to join her sisters and mother in the drawing