Read Online 1 A Spirited Manor by Kate Danley - Free Book Online Page B

elbow.  She gave Horace a little wave. 
"Norman and I will go with you."  She then turned back to the remaining
group.  "Wesley?  Stay here and make sure that Clifford doesn't do
anything untoward towards the girls, will you?"  Clifford opened and
closed his mouth like a fish in protest.  "Don't pretend, Clifford.  It
looks unseemly.  Lead the way, Horace!"
    Horace nodded gruffly and
motioned for Gilbert to walk in front of him.  They all marched out of the room,
leaving Wesley, Clifford, Violet, and Clara to keep poor Hilda's body company.
    Violet was sobbing quietly into
Clifford's shoulder.  He kept looking over at her mother's body uncomfortably. 
"There, there. No one liked her very much in the first place."
    Violet gave a violent gasp and
pushed him away.  Clara rushed over to embrace her as Clifford realized his
callousness.  With her arm around Violet's shoulders, Clara tactfully suggested,
"Perhaps you would like to see Violet to her room, where she can lie down
until the police arrive."
    Clifford seemed immediately
relieved to have some sort of helpful direction in this moment of crisis.  He gently
guided Violet to her feet and towards the door, looking highly uncomfortable by
her emotional outbursts.
    "Quite the happy couple,
aren't they?" Wesley remarked under his breath.
    Clara looked over at him. 
"Your thoughts mirror my own."
    He grimly smiled, as if he was
unaware that he had spoken those words aloud.  "Apologies.  It was an
inappropriate comment in such a moment of tragedy."
    Clara shook her head.  "I
find it the most appropriate of sentiments.  Her own mother, killed before her,
and him unable to manage.  Poor thing.  She deserves better than that."
    Wesley stared at the dead woman.
 "And so we find ourselves in the uncomfortable position, Mrs. O'Hare, of
deciding what to do next."
    "Please, call me Clara.  I
find that enduring a murder is an occasion to drop formalities."
    He reached over and gripped her
hand and she gripped his hand back.  She could not help but to think how grateful
she was to have him here to offer his strength if she needed it.  She tried not
to imagine what this night would have been like without him.  It would have
been beyond endurance.
    And then she realized she had
been standing there for some minutes, just holding on to him, without saying a
word.  She cleared her throat.  "Perhaps we should contact the
authorities."
    Wesley held her hand for a
moment longer before giving it a squeeze and heading out of the room.  "Of
course.  That is a most sensible course of action."
    There was a phone hung in the
hallway.  Clara had never used one before, but Wesley made straight for it.  She
followed behind.  He picked up the black receiver and placed it to his ear.  He
jiggled the hook.  "Hello?" He spoke into the mouthpiece on the
wall.  "Hello?"  Disappointed, he placed the receiver back in its
crook.  "The line appears to be dead."
    Clara looked out towards the
windows.  "Most likely this storm has severed the lines.  We shall have to
ride into town."
    Wesley nodded grimly and strode
towards the front door.  He opened it up and was greeted by sheets of rain. 
Clara peered out from around his steady frame.
    "You cannot take a
carriage," she said.  "The wheels would get stuck in the mud within a
few minutes of being on the road."
    "I shall go by horseback,
then," he replied.
    She cautioned, "Perhaps it
is best to wait until morning."
    He turned, placing both hands
upon her arms in a gesture which was strangely protective and familiar for one
she had just met.  "There is a murderer in the house and a dead woman in
the parlor.  As much as I would enjoy spending the evening here with you before
a warm fire, there is no time to wait."
    She nodded in understanding,
respecting him even more for placing himself in harm's way in order to ensure
their safety...  her safety...  She reached over to the stand and took a hat
and overcoat from the hook.