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Phantom Fortune

Phantom Fortune

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Chapter 1 Penelope

Word Count: 3046    |    Released on: 18/11/2017

world which lies between the narrow circle bounded by Bryanstone Square on the north and by Birdcage Walk on the south, did not consider

wiftly along all the Westend squares, carrying rank, fashion, wealth, and beauty, political influence, and int

and shone, not alone with the novel splendour of gas, but with the light of many wax candles, clustering flower-like in silver branches and girandoles, multiplying their flame in numerous mirro

ence still, but no longer an active power in the machine of government. At his house gathered all that was most brilliant in London society. To be seen at Lady Denyer's, evening

piece, naturally trending towards the social hearth, albeit it was the season for roses and lilies rather than of fires, and the hum of

ber draperies shrouded the windows, and deadened the sound of rolling wheels, and the voices and footfalls of western London. The drawing rooms of those days were neither artistic nor picturesque - neither Early English

lf, with her eye on the door, while she listened languidly to the remarks of a youthfu

a new Rosina every year, whom nobody ever hears of afterwards? What becomes of them? Do they die, or do they set

wel, which would not have misbeseemed the head-gear of an Indian prince. Lady Denyer was one of th

ile she listened intently to the confidential murmurs of the group on the hearthrug, the little knot of personages clustered round Lord Denyer. Hi 'Indian mail in this morning,' said o

hat he has been recalled, and is now

ps, and looked ineffably wise, a way he had when he

ards, a man about town, and an inveterate gossip, who knew everybody, and ever

dging,' replied his lordship, cooll

the news to her, as well as to other people - supposing she knew nothing abou

sure she will. She has the pride of Lucifer and the courage of a lion.

Wicked as devils, and brave as lions. Old Talmash, the grandfather, shot his valet in a paroxysm of delirium treme

the chambers; and Lady Denyer moved at l

on. She was beautiful, and she let the world see that she was conscious of her beauty, and the power that went along with it. She was clever, and she used her cleverness with unfailing tact and unscrupulous audacity. She had won her place in the world as an acknowledged beauty, and one of the leaders of fashion. Two years ago she had been the glory and delight of Anglo–Indian society in the city of Madras, ruling

She went out a great deal, but she was never seen at a second-rate party. She had not a single doubtful acquaintance upon her visiting list. Sh

atched for the privilege of a recognising nod from the divinity. Sir Jasper Paulet, a legal luminary of the first brilliancy, likely to be employed fo

with herself and the world in which she lived. She was ready to talk about anything and everything - the newly-wedded queen, and the fortunate Prince, whose existence among us had all the charm of novelty - of Lord Melbourne's declining health - and Sir Robert Peel's sliding scale - mesmerism - the Oxford T

right-hand neighbour in interested conversation. She always knew the particular subjects likely to interest particular people, and was a good listener as well as a good talker. Her right-hand neighbour was Sir Jasper Paulet, who had been allotted to the pompous wife of a court physician,

armed circle. The great lawyer's left ear was listening greedily for any word of meaning that might fall from the lips of Lady Maulevrier; but no such word fell. She talked delightfully, with a touch-and-go vivacity which is the highest form of dinner-table talk, not dwelling w

long as the shadowy line of the kings in 'Macbeth,' filed off with the empty ice-dishes, La

g in those clear, perfectly finished syllables which are heard further than the louder accents of less p

uch short notice. He felt that the muscles round his eyes and the corners of hi

erm of office would expire in little more than a year, but I hardly think he could have lived out the year. However, I am happy to say the mail that came in to-day - I suppose you know the mail is in?' (Lo

enyer. 'Favoured by your good wishes the winds

tune was open to feminine influence,' sighed her ladyship. '

e most charming of Penelope

r of things, is it not?' said her ladyship, laughingly. 'I hope my poor Ulysses will not come

er India, I should th

ive air. He wi

ip, who was no sportsman, and who detested Scotland

ed at the family seat among the hills near Bath, and gave herself over to Low Church devotion, and works of benevolence. She made herself a terror to the neighbourhood by the strictness of her ideas all through the autumn and winter; and in the spring she went up to London, put on her turban and her diamonds, and plunged into the vortex of West–End society,

st five minutes before Lady Maulevrier responded, so entirely was that lady absorbed in her conversation with Lord Denyer; but she caught the look at last, and rose, as if moved by the same machinery which impelled her hostess, and then, grac

latest scandal - always excepting that latest scandal of all which involved her own husband - in subdued murmurs with one of her intimates. In the dining-room the men drew closer together over th

unt which Clive in his most rapacious moments never dreamt of, for his countrymen's blood. Tidings of dark transactions between the Governor and the native Princes had reached the ears of the Government, tidings so vague, so incredible, that the Government might naturally be slow to believe, still slower to act. There were whispers of a woman's influence, a beautiful Ranee, a creature as fascinating and as unscrupulous as

proudly as if her husband's name were spotless, and talked

w in my life,' said the court physician. 'M

ecting a youthful candour and trustfulness which at his age, a

f Maulevrier, and I saw just one bead of perspiration break out on her

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1 Chapter 1 Penelope2 Chapter 2 Ulysses3 Chapter 3 On the Wrong Road4 Chapter 4 The Last Stage5 Chapter 5 Forty Years After6 Chapter 6 Maulevrier's Humble Friend7 Chapter 7 In the Summer Morning8 Chapter 8 There is Always a Skeleton9 Chapter 9 A Cry in the Darkness10 Chapter 10 'O Bitterness of Things Too Sweet.'11 Chapter 11 'If i Were to Do as Iseult Did.'12 Chapter 12 'The Greater Cantle of the World is Lost.'13 Chapter 13 'Since Painted or Not Painted All Shall Fade.'14 Chapter 14 'Not Yet.'15 Chapter 15 'Of All Men Else i have Avoided Thee.'16 Chapter 16 'Her Face Resigned to Bliss or Bale.'17 Chapter 17 'And the Spring Comes Slowly up this Way.'18 Chapter 18 'And Come Agen Be it by Night or Day.'19 Chapter 19 The Old Man on the Fell20 Chapter 20 Lady Maulevrier's Letter-Bag21 Chapter 21 On the Dark Brow of Helvellyn22 Chapter 22 Wiser than Lesbia23 Chapter 23 'A Young Lamb's Heart Among the Full-Grown Flocks.'24 Chapter 24 'Now Nothing Left to Love or Hate.'25 Chapter 25 Carte Blanche26 Chapter 26 'Proud Can i Never Be of what i Hate.'27 Chapter 27 Lesbia Crosses Piccadilly28 Chapter 28 'Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in Wild Disorder Seen.'29 Chapter 29 'Swift Subtle Post, Carrier of Grisly Care.'30 Chapter 30 'Roses Choked Among Thorns and Thistles.'31 Chapter 31 'Kind is My Love to-Day, to-Morrow Kind.'32 Chapter 32 Ways and Means33 Chapter 33 By Special Licence34 Chapter 34 'Our Love was New, and then but in the Spring.'35 Chapter 35 'All Fancy, Pride, and Fickle Maidenhood.'36 Chapter 36 A RastaquouèRe37 Chapter 37 Lord Hartfield Refuses a Fortune38 Chapter 38 On Board the 'Cayman.'39 Chapter 39 In Storm and Darkness40 Chapter 40 A Note of Alarm41 Chapter 41 Privileged Information42 Chapter 42 'Shall it Be'43 Chapter 43 'Alas, for Sorrow is All the End of this'44 Chapter 44 'Oh, Sad Kissed Mouth, How Sorrowful it is!'45 Chapter 45 'That Fell Arrest, Without All Bail.'46 Chapter 46 The Day of Reckoning