Banishment (Daughters of Mannerling 1) Read Online Free Page B

he bought two tickets and ushered her into the greenish gloom of the tent behind.
    I shall
never
forgive him for this, thought Isabella as she sat on a hard bench at the very front. The fact that everyone was exclaiming and staring at her beauty went unnoticed by her. For all her faults, she was not vain about her looks and assumed everyone was staring at her because she was a stranger and because of the richness of her clothes. A large farmer’s wife carrying a basket sat down next to her, children were running and screaming around and under the benches, and the air was full of the smell of oranges, which some of the audience had bought from a seller outside.
    Isabella had just decided to feign a headache and ask to be taken home when the conjuror appeared. He seemed a nervous young man and he was wearing a plain black morning coat and knee-breeches and a high cravat. He looked sadly round the audience and then solemnly appeared to take a coloured ball out of his ear. He looked at it in comic surprise. Then he took another from the back of his neck and another materialized from the top of his head, and so he went on until he had eight small coloured balls which he proceeded to juggle. Then he gave a little sigh and threw them all up in the air . . . and they magically disappeared.
    And from that moment, Miss Isabella Beverley promptly forgot her surroundings and sat, fascinated, on the edge of the bench. When he finished his act by producing a whole bowl of live goldfish from under the tails of his coat, she clapped as loudly and rapturously as anyone else. And somehow, as they emerged blinking into the sunlight, Isabella became part of the fair, part of the crowds. She demanded to see the two-headed pig, the Morality play, and the painted lady. She searched through the booths which sold scarves, trinkets, and fans, cakes and jam, exclaiming at how inexpensive everything was, which surprised the viscount, who was amazed to learn that she knew the price of anything.
    It was when they were drinking lemonade in the inn that a shadow began to fall across Isabella’s bright day. She said, ‘My ride on your Satan has quite spoiled me for my quiet mare. Papa is in London. I asked our secretary to see about purchasing me a proper mount and he said I must wait for Papa’s return.’
    ‘That seems sensible,’ remarked the viscount.
    ‘But Mr Ducket, that’s the secretary, has always handled things like that in Papa’s absence.’
    ‘A good hunter like Satan costs quite a deal of money. Have you considered that?’
    Isabella gave him an amused smile. ‘That is one of the problems the Beverley family does not have, my lord.’
    He put down his glass and looked at her seriously. ‘Things in life can change. Even families as rich as yours can come upon hard times.’
    ‘What can you mean? Such an idea is unthinkable.’
    ‘Just a word of caution. In any case, why worry? You can send a servant over to collect Satan and go for a ride any time you want.’
    ‘Thank you,’ said Isabella. ‘But it was most odd of you to hint that something might happen to our fortunes. You were hinting, were you not?’
    But he appeared not to hear her. ‘If we leave now,’ he said, ‘we can avoid the crush of carriages on the road when the fair finishes.’
    She suddenly wanted to tell him about those jewels. But he might voice the worry that had been growing and growing in her mind – that Papa meant to sell them, that something had happened to her golden world. But then the thought that he might confirm her worry in some way frightened her even more. Papa would be back soon and all would be well again.
    As they approached Mannerling, the sky had darkened, threatening rain. The house reached out to welcome her. The viscount no longer appeared a charming and handsome companion but a man who was not quite a suitable consort for one of the Beverley sisters.
    They rolled past the stables. ‘Papa’s carriage is there,’ exclaimed Isabella.