"Paul J. McAuley - Inheritance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mcauley Paul J)

peeking about the top button of her fur-collared coat lent her an
exotic,
gypsyish air. She raised her hand to her throat, and said, "You're
American, aren't you? We have a son over there, in Boston."
"Harvard University," her husband added.
Tolley said, "I was looking for a place called Steeple Heyston. You
know
it?"
Clearly they did, for they exchanged a look. The man said, "You must
have
 missed the turn. It's about a mile back, only a rough track and not
signposted. Nothing there anymore."
"I understood there were ruins. An old manor house. That's what I've
come
to see; my family on my father's side lived there. Tolley. The name
mean
anything to you?"
Again that exchanged glance. The man said, "There's still a bit of the
old
manor house. Visiting on your own?"
Tolley explained that he was divorced, and had no children. "I guess
you
could say that I'm the last of the line," he said, and saw the woman
touch
her throat again. "I'm on sabbatical now," he added, "just touring
around."
"Oh, you must be at a university too," the woman said. "Our son is a
professor of biology."
"My field is history. The Italian Renaissance, specifically."
"That must be difficult, you in America and all."
"Oh, UCLA has plenty of documents, and the Getty Museum even more."
Tolley
smiled. "I'm afraid we've bought up a lot of your past. We don't have
too
much of our own, I guess."
"Tell you what," the man said. "When you've done at Steeple Heyston,
you
come back and have tea with us."
"Why, that's very kind of you."
"No trouble. We live in South Heyston, just two miles along this road
here. Glebe Cottage, two doors down from the pub. You can't miss it.
Come
and see us when you've done at Steeple Heyston, and we'll tell you
about
it."
"You're interested in local history?"
The woman said unexpectedly, "It's a terribly sad place, Professor
Tolley,
terribly sad. The saddest place I know."
"She thinks she's sensitive, does our Marjory," her husband said, with