A Lady of Quality: Being a Most Curious, Hitherto Unknown History, as Related by Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff but Not Presented to the World of Fashion Through the Pages of The Tatler, and Now for the First Time Written DownBurnett, Frances Hodgson
General
A Lady of Quality: Being a Most Curious, Hitherto Unknown History, as Related by Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff but Not Presented to the World of Fashion Through the Pages of The Tatler, and Now for the First Time Written Down
Burnett, Frances Hodgson
Nobility -- Fiction
'My Gerald! My Gerald.') And indeed I crave your pardon, for a man
so filled with rapture cannot be quite sane, and sometimes I wonder if
I walk through the palace gardens like one who is drunk, so does my
brain reel. But soon, my heavenly, noble love, my exile will be over,
and this is in truth what my letter is to tell you, that in four days
your lacqueys will throw open your doors to me and I shall enter, and
being led to you, shall kneel at your feet and kiss the hem of your
robe, and then rise standing to fold her who will so soon be my very
wife to my throbbing breast."
Back to her face had come all the softness which had been lost, the hard
lines were gone, the tender curves had returned, her lashes looked as if
they were moist. Anne, sitting rigidly and gazing at her, was afraid to
speak, knowing that she was not for the time on earth, but that the sound
of a voice would bring her back to it, and that 'twas well she should be
away as long as she might.
She read the letter, not once, but thrice, dwelling upon every word,
'twas plain; and when she had reached the last one, turning back the
pages and beginning again. When she looked up at last, 'twas with an
almost wild little smile, for she had indeed for that one moment
forgotten.
"Locked in each other's arms," she said--"locked in each other's arms. My
Gerald! My Gerald! 'What surely is my own--my own'!"
Anne rose and came to her, laying her hand on her arm. She spoke in a
voice low, hushed, and strained.
"Come away, sister," she said, "for a little while--come away."
CHAPTER XVIII--My Lady Dunstanwolde sits late alone and writes
That she must leave the Panelled Parlour at her usual hour, or attract
attention by doing that to which her household was unaccustomed, she well
knew, her manner of life being ever stately and ceremonious in its
regularity. When she dined at home she and Anne partook of their repast
together in the large dining-room, the table loaded with silver dishes
and massive glittering glass, their powdered, gold-laced lacqueys in
attendance, as though a score of guests had shared the meal with them.
Since her lord's death there had been nights when her ladyship had sat
late writing letters and reading documents pertaining to her estates, the
management of which, though in a measure controlled by stewards and
attorneys, was not left to them, as the business of most great ladies is
generally left to others. All papers were examined by her, all leases
and agreements clearly understood before she signed them, and if there
were aught unsatisfactory, both stewards and lawyers were called to her
presence to explain.
"Never did I--or any other man--meet with such a head upon a woman's
shoulders," her attorney said. And the head steward of Dunstanwolde and
Helversly learned to quake at the sight of her bold handwriting upon the
outside of a letter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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