Part 22 (2/2)

'It will give you the opportunity to get to know them better.'

'I may sleep until late tomorrow.'

Brilliana was resolute. 'No, you will not!'

Her face blossomed into a regal smile as the first guests came through the front door. They were four in number and swiftly followed by an elderly married couple from a neighbouring estate. They all received a cordial welcome from Brilliana and her husband. Susan, too, was uniformly polite. Looking around the visitors, she saw that they were exactly what she had antic.i.p.ated. They were, in their various ways, alternative versions of her sister and her brother-in-law. The latecomers most certainly were not. When Jack Cardinal and his mother finally arrived in a flurry of apologies, Susan was taken aback. The woman caught her eye first. She was an obese lady with a surging bosom, bulging cheeks and tiny pig-like eyes. Hanging on her son's arm for support, she explained that they had been delayed because she had had one of her attacks. Susan was amazed. Mrs Cardinal looked uncommonly healthy to her.

Jack Cardinal was the real surprise. He was a neat, compact man of medium height with a shock of black hair that rose up from a high-domed forehead. Only his mother could have deemed him handsome. His face was craggy in repose and slightly comic when he was animated. Susan was completely disarmed. Cardinal was no threat to her. If anything, she felt sorry for him. Even at a glance, the man was so burdened by a demanding mother that he looked years older than his true age. When he was introduced to Susan, he was too shy to do more than give her a token bow. She began to relax. The evening might not be as onerous as she had feared.

It was an hour before she had a conversation alone with Cardinal. Before the meal was served, Brilliana contrived to divert the majority of the guests by inviting them to see the recent portrait of her that hung at the top of the staircase. Serle had been primed to a.s.sist Mrs Cardinal up the steps and to listen to the endless litany of her symptoms. Susan found herself in the parlour with Jack Cardinal. He examined the bookshelves.

'Lancelot has tastes not unlike my own,' he remarked.

'In what way?'

'I, too, am fond of poems. I read them to Mother sometimes.'

'Can she not read them to herself, Mr Cardinal?'

'Not when her eyes trouble her,' he replied. 'Poor sight is one of her many problems. What about you, Miss Cheever?' he asked, turning to look at her. 'Are you interested in poetry?'

'I am, sir.'

'May I know whom you admire?'

'Many of those you'll find on those same shelves,' said Susan. 'But the poet I revere most is not in my brother-in-law's collection.'

'And who might that be?'

'Mr Milton.'

He was astounded. 'John Milton?'

'I know of no other.'

'I'd not have thought he'd appeal to a young lady such as you.'

'He certainly does not appeal to my sister,' confessed Susan, 'and Lancelot has strong political objections against him. Mr Milton, as you know, was Latin Secretary to the Lord High Protector.'

”That's what makes him so intriguing, Miss Cheever.'

'Intriguing?'

'Poetry transcends political affiliation,' he said solemnly. 'Because I do not agree with a man's politics, I am not unaware of his poetic skills. I take John Milton to be a man of infinite genius. I'm proud to call myself a Royalist but that does not stop me from telling you that Paradise Lost is the finest poem I've ever read.'

'You are a religious man, I see.'

'Far from it.'

'Then wherein lies its appeal?'

'In its scope, its ambition and its sheer intelligence.'

'You have surely not read it to your mother.'

'No,' he replied with a rare smile. 'Mother has no time for John Milton or anyone of his persuasion. She believes that he should have been beheaded as a traitor. That att.i.tude does not put her in the ideal frame of mind for appreciating his work.'

Susan warmed to him. 'Lancelot tells me that you are a prodigious reader.'

'I know of no greater pleasure.'

'What about shooting and fencing? You excel at both, I hear.'

'They are manly accomplishments and nothing more.'

'You are too modest, Mr Cardinal. I understand that you are an expert.'

'Hardly! What has Lancelot been saying about me?'

'He talked of a duel that you had with Egerton Whitcombe.'

'Oh, that,' said Cardinal, his face clouding. 'It was a big mistake.'

'But you were the victor.'

”The bout should never have taken place.' 'According to Lancelot, the other man goaded you into it.'

'He did, Miss Cheever, and I was foolish to go along with it.'

'Why?'

'Because I did not realise how seriously my opponent was taking the whole thing. Egerton Whitcombe was so confident that he would get the better of me that he'd made a number of wagers with friends.' He gave an apologetic shrug. 'Losing the bout cost him a sizeable amount of money.'

'No wonder he was so embittered.'

'He keeps asking for a return meeting to recoup his losses but I'll not measure swords with him again. Too much rides on it for Egerton - and for his mother, of course.'

'Lady Whitcombe?'

'She was there to cheer her son on the last time,' he said. 'Lady Whitcombe was so outraged that I proved the finer swordsman that she's not spoken to me since.'

'My brother-in-law tells me that she's very grand.'

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