"David Weber - Honor Harrington - 11 - At All Costs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weber David)

The Stars at War
The Stars at War II

with John Ringo:

March Upcountry
March to the Sea
March to the Stars
We Few

with Eric Flint

1633




Battle Map - At All Costs






• Chapter One

The nursery was extraordinarily full.

Two of the three older girls—Rachel and Jeanette—were downstairs, hovering on the brink of adulthood, and Theresa was at boarding school on Manticore, but the remaining five Mayhew children, their nannies, and their personal armsmen made a respectable mob. Then there was Faith Katherine Honor Stephanie Miranda Harrington, Miss Harrington, heir to Harrington Steading, and her younger twin brother, James Andrew Benjamin, and their personal armsmen. And lest that not be enough bodies to crowd even a nursery this large, there was her own modest person—Admiral Lady Dame Honor Harrington, Steadholder and Duchess Harrington, and her personal armsman. Not to mention one obviously amused treecat.

Given the presence of seven children, the oldest barely twelve, four nannies, nine armsmen (Honor herself had gotten off with only Andrew LaFollet, but Faith was accompanied by two of her three personal armsmen), and one Steadholder, the decibel level was actually remarkably low, she reflected. Of course, all things were relative.

“Now, that is enough !” Gena Smith, the senior member of Protector’s Palace’s child-care staff, said firmly in the no-nonsense voice which had thwarted—more or less—the determination of the elder Mayhew daughters to grow up as cheerful barbarians. “What is Lady Harrington going to think of you?”

“It’s too late to try to fool her about that now, Gigi,” Honor Mayhew, one of Honor’s godchildren, said cheerfully. “She’s known all of us since we were born!”

“But you can at least pretend you’ve been exposed to the rudiments of proper behavior,” Gena said firmly, although the glare she bestowed upon her unrepentant charge was somewhat undermined by the twinkle which went with it. At twelve, the girl had her own bedroom, but she’d offered to spend the night with the littles under the circumstances, which was typical of her.

“Oh, she knows that,” the younger Honor said soothingly now. “I’m sure she knows we’re not your fault.”

“Which is probably the best I can hope for,” Gena said with a sigh.

“I’m not exactly unaware of the . . . challenge you face with this lot,” Honor assured her. “These two, particularly,” she added, giving her much younger twin siblings a very old-fashioned look. They only grinned back at her, at least as unrepentant as young Honor. “On the other hand,” she continued, “I think between us we have them outnumbered. And they actually seem a bit less rowdy tonight.”

“Well, of course—” Gena began, then stopped and shook her head. A flash of irritation showed briefly in the backs of her gray-blue eyes. “What I meant, My Lady, is that they’re usually on their better behavior—they don’t actually have a best behavior, you understand—when you’re here.”

Honor nodded in response to both the interrupted comment, and the one Gena had actually made. Her eyes met the younger woman’s—at forty-eight T-years, Gena Smith was well into middle age for a pre-prolong Grayson woman, but that still made her over twelve T-years younger than Honor—for just a moment, and then the two of them returned their attention to the pajama-clad children.

Despite Gena’s and Honor’s comments, the three assistant nannies had sorted out their charges with the efficiency of long practice. Faith and James were out from under the eye of their own regular nanny, but they were remarkably obedient to the Palace’s substitutes. No doubt because they were only too well aware that their armsmen would be reporting back to “Aunt Miranda,” Honor thought dryly. Teeth had already been brushed, faces had already been washed, and all seven of them had been tucked into their beds while she and Gena were talking. Somehow they made it all seem much easier than Honor’s own childhood memories of the handful she’d been.