and summarized so exquisitely English aristocracy life qualities. The dining room was set up in Victorian style. Sitting in a chair, Edward Gladstone’s mother actively gestured with her ringed hands. Her rings seemed to reflect the early morning rays and so did her hazel eyes.
— There’s a rumor going around, dear, that modern girls are absolutely spoiled, even those, who belonged to nice families. I want to warn you and hence prevent your fatal flaw!
— Mum, I am 32. Don’t you think….? — Edward started.
— Don’t even interrupt me! — Her pulse was pounding and her head throbbed. — Don’t be most annoyingly bullheaded person on the planet, because your father has already held this rank! Let me explain. Young Carolina Stubbs, with whom you studied at school, lost her innocence with a student at the Naval School and fled with him to India. Can you even imagine? Sofia, this blue-blooded child, contacted the Russian mafia and flew to Moscow, where, rumor has it, she keeps as a pet a savage bear cub! How tastelessly! And it’s a real shame about what happened to Lucy Bradford…
— I am not interested in gossips, that some dowagers, reeked of soap and medicine, have over their tea… — Edward tried to play it cool, only twitching legs betrayed him. He forgot to flick ashes from a cigarette, because he listened his mum extremely carefully, pretending apathy and aloofness.
— Kitty Davidson (by the way, she’s always had a thing for you) gave herself to a 50-year-old snob just because of his money. Do you remember her?
— I vaguely remember Kitty…
— If that’s so, all the better. But wait, that’s not all. The niece of Lady Barrington, Jane, if I am not mistaken, wears only black all the time and there’s talk she began to worship Satan, because every evening she bawls in convulsions about the house. This girl, famous by ancestry, becomes a disgrace to her honored family.
— She is a singer, a rising star… And she doesn’t wear black all the time. Only on stage. — Edward pricked up his ears.
— Come on, Eddy! — Lady Gladstone groaned. — A second-rate singer in a third-rate club, where there are only goths and emos (are they called so?)! She never hears notes but acts like if she had a unique voice (yeah, Eddy, I’ve managed to find her in Doodle)!
- Google, mum.
- What does it matter what was it! Jane’s singing is mediocre. She has a template approach to her texts; I find them derivative and silly. Was she taught to compose such songs at Harvard? And this way of wearing clothes… Except for her brilliant education I could take her for freak. — She said this with a sniff. — However, it is not something I like to focus on. I have enough courage to admit that, perhaps, I am too old for her music.
— Perhaps, you are… — Edward murmured. His mouth curled in ironic smile.
— The point is that…. Do you remember I gave you a ring with an emerald the size of an almond circled by little pearls?
Edward’s heart sank.
— Yes. — His answer was.
— It is a great desire of mine to have a nice daughter-in-law. I want you to find a mate for life whose finger this ring will decorate.
— I just wanted to say that she is in the next room… — he started, but his mother didn’t listen.
— She must be sincere, caring, with refined manners, with a good pedigree, of course! — Suddenly she hesitated. — What have you said? What’s on your mind, Edward?
— Jane! Come in, honey. — Edward called the girl.
Lady Gladstone only managed to see her ragged jeans, black dreadlocks and… an emerald on Jane’s finger.
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