POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER EIGHT (Part One)

CHAPTER EIGHT (Part One) 

As they approached the front of the house young George Dobbs came around the corner to take Cedric’s horse and led it away.

     Without speaking Cedric motioned Rosalind to go before him into the house, but she hung back uncertain. Again the urge to run away came over her. She wished with all her heart that she was back in Mrs Dutton’s comfy rooming-house inSwansea; she wished that she had never set foot inside Cliff House.

     ‘Why do you hesitate?’ Cedric asked.

     ‘I may no longer be welcome,’ Rosalind said.

     He did not answer and his silence told her all she wanted to know. He had no idea what action his father intended to take against her.   She could imagine Sir Leopold waiting in his study to admonish her in caustic tones. He would tell her to pack her bags and be gone from his house.

     Well, Rosalind thought, that is what I want, and so she stepped valiantly through the doorway and into the hall.

      Cedric immediately excused himself and left her to walk towards the study door. Watching him go Rosalind felt deserted for a moment and then she saw Pricilla waiting for her, anxiously hopping from one foot to another. The girl dashed forward to take her hand.

     ‘Rosalind! Oh, thank heavens!’ she exclaimed in a rush. ‘Father has found you. Are you safe?’

     Rosalind was touched by the girl’s obvious concern.

     ‘Yes, Pricilla, I’m quite all right.’

     Of course, she was far from all right. Pricilla was too young to understand the accusations that had been levelled at her or the cloud of shame that hovered over her head. At the thought of that Rosalind was suddenly full of rage at the injustice of it all.

     ‘Where is Mrs Gilbert?’ she asked between gritted teeth. That woman had a lot to answer for and Rosalind was determined to have it out with her at the earliest opportunity.

     ‘Grandfather wishes to see you in his study as soon as you return,’ Pricilla said. ‘After you have spoken to him perhaps we can sit in the garden together until luncheon? I’ve written a poem. I’d like you to hear it.’

     Rosalind felt a twinge of something like fear at the thought of facing Sir Leopold but she knew it could not be avoided. She would stand up to him, though, she told herself. She would also accuse Mrs Gilbert of collusion. Joshua Tucker had not acted on his own, that was certain.

     ‘That would be lovely,’ Rosalind said absently. She thought it unlikely she would ever sit in the gardens of Cliff House ever again. ‘Run along now, Pricilla, dear,’ Rosalind said gently. ‘I’ll see you later.’

     With that she followed in the footsteps of Cedric and made her way to the study. She knocked and waited for instruction to enter. When she did she saw both men were on their feet, their faces flushed, and their expressions angry. Obviously heated words had been exchanged.

     Cedric turned away abruptly to stare out of the window while Sir Leopold took a seat behind his desk.

     ‘Sit down, Miss Trevellian.’

     Rosalind felt a tremor of apprehension. He had never asked her to sit in his presence before. Obediently, she took a seat before his desk and stared at him proudly, her chin held high.

     ‘I see you are unrepentant,’ he began.

     ‘How dare you!’ Outraged, Rosalind sprang to her feet. ‘How dare you give one moment’s credence to those abominable lies?’