Verwandte Artikel zu The Lady: A Novel

The Lady: A Novel - Softcover

McCaffrey, Anne

 
9780345356741: The Lady: A Novel
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0345356748 ISBN 13: 9780345356741
Verlag: Ballantine Books, 1988

Inhaltsangabe

Amidst the grandeur of the emerald countryside, a magnificent story unfolds. . . .

They are the Carradynes, who for more than 200 years have bred and trained horses of the finest caliber on Cornanagh—a land so beautiful it inspires the soul.

But all is not idyllic at hearth and home. At the center of the conflict is Catriona, the youngest child, a girl who dreams of riding her family’s big jumpers and show horses. Her father, Michael, is keenly aware of her immense talent, and he urges her on—only to lock wills with his insufferably pious and overbearing wife, Isabel, a woman who cannot bear horses, who cannot bear his touch. Her goal is to put stiff dresses, tight shoes, and perfect manners on Catriona.

It is a stalemate of pride and passion—until the day Lady Selina Healy enters their lives. Poised, beautiful, and warm, she too knows imprisonment in a loveless marriage, she too admires good horses, she too finds enchantment in Cornanagh. She falls in love . . . with Catriona, who becomes the child she never had; with the splendid lush land; and with Michael, the consummate horseman and gentleman.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Anne McCaffrey, one of the world’s most popular authors, is best known for her Dragonriders of Pern® series. She was the first woman to win the two top prizes for science fiction writing, the Hugo and Nebula awards. She was also given the American Library Association’s Margaret A. Edwards Award for Lifetime Literary Achievement in Young Adult Fiction, was inducted into the Science Fiction Hall of Fame, and was named a Science Fiction Writers of America Grand Master. Born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1926, McCaffrey relocated to Ireland in the 1970s, where she lived in a house of her own design, named Dragonhold-Underhill. She died in 2011.

Von der hinteren Coverseite

They are the Caradynes, who for over 200 years have bred and trained horses of the finest caliber on Coernanagh. But all is not idyllic at hearth and home. Catriona, the youngest child, longs to ride her family's big jumpers and show horses. Her father Michael, recognizes her gift, but her mother hates the very idea. All is in a stalemate until Lady Selina Healy enters their lives, and provides for Catriona and her father a stunning example of how the reins of power can be held by a glorious, fearless woman.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

February 1970
 
 
 
FOLLOW the coast road to Greystones, turn right at Blacklion, and watch out for the traffic haring up from the town—some of the drivers buy their licenses at the post office. Stay on that upper road past the Orchard Pub and continue straight through the crossroads at Killincarrig. The right-hand road leads to Delgany, and the left turns back down to the sea. At Pretty Bush turn right and up the hill— mind the children who play in the road—and continue on past Kilquade’s cemetery. There’s a grand view from there of the sea and the convent and the mountains, not yet greening with spring but with twisted pines marching on the hill crests, outlined against the bright sky. Just past the cemetery, on the left, is the beginning of Cornanagh, property of the Carradyne family, landowners since the first Carradyne did service for the Crown in the eighteenth century.
 
Cornanagh means “hill of the beast” in the Irish, though many wonder that the Carradynes, Anglo-Irish and for generations loyal to the Crown, have retained the name. Except that the Carradynes insist that the “beast” is a horse and they have always been notable horsemen and -women and breed some of the finest hunters and hurdlers in the country. In that they have become more Irish than English and, even during the lean years and bad harvests of the previous century, made profit from the production of colts and fillies.
 
If you drive into Cornanagh through the main gate and past the old gatekeeper’s lodge, the way is lined by massive sycamores and beeches, which legend has it were planted by the first Carradyne. The house, enlarged from an original farm manor of the late 1600s, faces east to the sea, with a gracious prospect of the undulating main fields and pastures of the estate. Past the house on the right are the extensive stables and then the huge walled garden, established in the mid-eighteenth century to amuse and delight the ladies of Cornanagh, sheltered from wind and storm, watered by the little stream that flows down from the hills and into the sea at Kilcoole. Old fig trees cling to its walls; pear, apple, and cherry trees flourish; and raspberry, gooseberry, and quince bear blossom and fruit in their time.
 
But to find the heart of Cornanagh, continue on the Kilcoole road past the formal entrance, past the high wall that girds the menage—the outdoor exercising ring—and to the strap-iron gates set between the old coach house and the stable block. Turn into the courtyard, past cow byrnes and right into the yard, its cobbled surface neatly swept on this February evening.
 
 
 
Lights, set high on the stable walls, illuminated the quadrangle. The horses all had their heads over their open upper doors, ears pricked, intent on the side that contained the foaling box.
 
A man of short stature, bundled with scarf, thick jumpers, and an ancient duffle coat against the chill, sharp wind, made his way across the courtyard to the stable block, absently whistling an old tune. He tugged his flat cap to secure it as the wind suddenly smacked against him and shrugged his broad shoulders into the warmth of his old jacket. The horses nickered softly at his passing and Tory, the black and white Wicklow collie, twitched his ears at the familiar step. The man stopped whistling and walked as quietly on the cobbles as he could in heavy leather work boots. He paused at the entrance to the stable, listening. Just then he heard a chorus of whickers from the animals inside, echoed by the horses in the quadrangle: a welcome if ever he’d heard one. Abandoning his cautious approach, he slid the door open and rushed to the center stall of the five in the barn.
 
Delight brightened Mick Lenahan’s blunt, homely features into a smile as he saw the newcomer on the stable’s straw.
 
“Ya do it every time, Frolic girl!” His voice was warm with approval for the big chestnut mare who hovered protectively over her newborn lying in the deep straw of the foaling box. “Ah, it’s a grand big foal! The captain’ll be that proud of you. Even if we never can catch you at it!”
 
He wheeled and, at a clumsy half trot, half canter, ran across both yards to the back door of the house. He entered with no ceremony, save to pull the cap from his graying, thinning hair, and pushed open the double doors into the dining room, where he knew the family was assembled at this hour. His noisy entry made everyone turn toward him: Isabel Carradyne with a frown, Captain Michael Carradyne rising from his seat at the head of the table, his expression expectant.
 
“She’s done it again, Captain. A fine strong foal.”
 
Michael Carradyne paused only to brush his napkin across his black mustache and bow courteously to his wife.
 
“Filly or colt?” he asked.
 
“Didn’t wait to see, Captain dear.”
 
“Oh, Mummy, may I go see, too?” said Catriona, the youngest of the current generation.
 
“Come on, Trina,” her father said, ignoring whatever decision his wife might have made, and the three left the dining room, grabbing the first outerwear to hand from the crowded rack just inside the back door.
 
They ran across the courtyard. Michael Carradyne, ignoring the twinge of pain from a left leg once torn by shrapnel, followed awkwardly after his nimble daughter. Catriona outdistanced both her father and Mick and reached the stable block first. With fingers made cold by even that brief exposure to the February chill, she fumbled with the door latching. Once inside, she quietly approached the foaling box, blue eyes wide, her mouth breaking into a beautiful smile as she saw the dark foal on the straw. It was now sitting in the deep bedding, its long forelegs straight out in front of it, the back ones jutting outward to the left. Frolic whickered softly, secure in her trust of the humans.
 
“That’s a fine foal, Frolic,” Michael Carradyne said, coming to stand behind his daughter, his hands on her thin shoulders. The mare whickered once more, as if accepting his praise. Then she bent to nuzzle the newborn, licking the short strong neck.
 
As the three watched, the foal gave a massive lurch and, to their surprise, managed to stand erect on unsure legs that then buckled behind and made the little creature sit down. It gave a squeaky nicker of irritation and lurched up on all fours again, flicking the little brush of a tail.
 
“A colt, Captain,” said Mick, “and as fine and independent a fellow as the Tulip has ever sired. He’ll be dark, too, like his da, when that foal coat grows out. Another black Tulip.”
 
Michael Carradyne, his blue eyes dark and shining, nodded in slow agreement. Then he glanced down at his young daughter. Her expression was enthralled, her mouth slightly open.
 
“Oh, Daddy, he’s magnificent. The best of this year’s lot. Oh, Frolic, you’ve done it again!”
 
At not quite thirteen Catriona was just tall enough to see into the foaling box without assistance. She was a thin, slightly built child, who appeared considerably more delicate than she was, an illusion helped by a porcelain-fair skin framed by hair as black as her father’s. Her eyes were the brilliant Carradyne blue, and the tilt of her curved eyebrows was all Carradyne as well. She had more grace about her than most preadolescents, probably the result of her riding, which had developed muscle control and an economy of movement.
 
Now the colt, plainly determined to...

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Ballantine Books
Erscheinungsdatum
1988
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0345356748
ISBN 13 
9780345356741
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
384
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar