Explore "Flemington" by Violet Jacob on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE Duke of Cumberland was at Holyrood House. He had come down from the North by way of Stirling, and having spent some days in Edinburgh, he was making his final arrangements to set out for England. He was returning in the enviable character of conquering hero, and he knew that a great reception awaited him in London, where every preparation was being made to do him honour; he was thinking of these things as he sat in one of the grim rooms of the ancient palace. There was not much luxury here; and looking across the table at which he sat and out of the window, he could see the dirty roofs of the Canongate -- a very different prospect from the one that would soon meet his eyes. He was sick of Scotland.
Papers were littered on the table, and his secretary had just carried away a bundle with him. He was alone, because he expected a lady to whom he had promised an audience, but he was not awaiting her with the feelings that he generally brought to such occasions. Cumberland had received the visits of many women alone since leaving England, but his guests were younger than the one whose approach he could now hear in the anteroom outside. He drew his brows together, for he expected no profit and some annoyance from the interview.