{"id":257986,"date":"2026-07-13T15:58:33","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T12:58:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/dawn-song-sara-craven\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T15:58:33","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T12:58:33","slug":"dawn-song-sara-craven","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/dawn-song-sara-craven\/","title":{"rendered":"Dawn Song – Sara Craven"},"content":{"rendered":"
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‘Now let us go into lunch.’ Leaning on her cane, she led the way into the dining-room. Meg followed, aware that her appetite had deserted her. The brief commercial course during her final year at school hadn’t prepared her to be anyone’s secretary, but that was almost immaterial compared with the personal implications facing her. As she sat down, she gave Jerome a burning look across the table.<\/p>\n

There was mockery mingled with triumph and something else easily definable in his own gaze. It was almost as if Madame de Brissot was trying to throw them together, she thought without pleasure as she drank her soup. She said, ‘When do you want me to start work? This afternoon?’ ‘I am not such a slave-driver.’ His smile slanted again, twisting her heart.<\/p>\n

‘Tomorrow is soon enough.’ Altogether too soon, Meg decided sombrely as Philippine cleared the plates, and brought in a platter of baked fish, supplemented by green beans and tiny new potatoes cooked in their skins and sprinkled with parsley. ‘So tell us,’ Jerome said when they were all served, and he had poured out pale golden wine from a carafe. ‘What exactly are the duties of a personal assistant?’<\/p>\n

Meg concentrated on removing a bone from her portion of fish. ‘They vary,’ she said at last. ‘I’m sure they do,’ he said silkily. ‘But you must be able to name at least one.’ ‘Well\u2014there’s research.’ She’d heard Margot mention that, she remembered with relief. ‘And I help sort out problems in the constituency.’ ‘And you can abandon such responsibilities to spend four weeks here?’ Jerome’s brows lifted. ‘If I were your boss, I wouldn’t be pleased by such desertion.’<\/p>\n

Meg stared at her plate. ‘I have six weeks’ leave a year,’ she said quietly. ‘How and when I take it is up to me. And it will soon be the summer recess anyway,’ she added, hoping it was true. ‘Nevertheless it is good of him to allow you to indulge me like this.’ Madame de Brissot looked faintly troubled.<\/p>\n

‘I had not realised what problems it might cause when I issued the invitation.’ Jerome smiled at her. ‘I don’t think you need worry,’ he said silkily. ‘I’m sure our lovely Margot is a paragon among secretaries\u2014far too valuable to lose.’ His gaze meeting Meg’s was like the clash of swords before some duel.<\/p>\n

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a long, steady look. Those are the basic elements of the scenario?’ ‘Well, what’s wrong with that?’ Margot demanded. The old bag wants someone to keep her company for four weeks while her regular slave has a well-deserved break. As long as someone turns up claiming to be Margot Trant, what problem can there possibly be?’ ‘Oh, none of course,’ Meg returned with terrible irony. ‘The fact that we don’t even look alike is quite immaterial.’ Margot shrugged. ‘I’m blonde\u2014you’re brunette.’ She gave Meg’s simply styled fall of brown hair a disparaging look.<\/p>\n

That can be easily fixed. As for the rest\u2014Tante’s practically blind\u2014that’s why she needs a companion. You’ll just be a blur.’ ‘Always my ultimate ambition,’ Meg murmured. Margot leaned forward. ‘Oh, come on, Meg.’ Her voice sharpened. ‘You could do it easily. You’ll have no job to worry about once that grotty second-hand bookshop you work for closes at the end of the week. And I can’t possibly get away. You must see that.’ ‘Why not?’ Meg countered. ‘I thought Parliament “rose” in the summer. Surely Steven would give you leave.’<\/p>\n

‘Probably, if I asked him.’ Margot’s pretty face was suddenly intense, ‘But he’s just on the point of asking Corinne for a divorce. I simply can’t afford to be away at this juncture.’ ‘I see,’ Meg murmured drily. However distasteful she might personally find it, this was what her stepsister had been working towards, ever since she’d got the job as secretary to Steven Curtess MP, the young back-bencher who was being tipped for junior ministerial rank in the next government. ‘And Godmother has no right to summon me like this\u2014right out of the blue,’ Margot went on petulantly.<\/p>\n

‘Good God, I haven’t seen her since I was nine.’ ‘I wondered why I’d never heard of her.’ Margot hunched a shoulder. ‘She’s my great-aunt, actually\u2014Dad was her favourite nephew, and I was named for her. So we’re all three of us called Margaret,’ she added triumphantly. ‘Isn’t that convenient?’ ‘Amazing.’ Meg shook her head.<\/p>\n

‘But irrelevant. Wouldn’t it be simpler just to write and tell her that you can’t get away?’ ‘No, it would be extremely stupid,’ Margot snapped. ‘She has no children, and no other living relative as far as I know. And a chateau in the Languedoc isn’t to be sneezed at as an inheritance. It’s imperative I keep on the right side of her.’ She gave Meg a suddenly limpid smile. ‘Or that you do, on my behalf.’ ‘No way.’<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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