Read Online Celeste Bradley - [The Liar's Club 02] by The Impostor - Free Book Online Page A

truly didn’t know. “I liked him. He was a bit light-minded, and not terribly responsible, but he was kind. Perhaps if we’d had more than a few months together I would have come to love him. But he was called up soon after the wedding.”
    Before
, actually, which was why she’d married him in an uncharacteristic bout of romantic and patriotic fervor.
Your typical wartime marriage
, she thought. The stuff of jest and ridicule. Poor Bentley. All the most important moments of his life had been a series of hackneyed japes.
    She wiped her eyes again, then turned back to the wall. “Why were you crying?”
    “Me back. It hurts.”
    “Your back? Did you injure yourself?”
    “No, miss. ‘Twas the whipping.”
    Clara was horrified. “You were
whipped?’
    “Oh, it ain’t so bad,” the little voice quavered. “Not like the time I spilt tea on the master’s guest.”
    “You were whipped for spilling
tea
    “Well, it were
real
hot, miss. And I’m terrible clumsy. But I never spilt tea again,” the voice went on to assure her. “This time it were for leavin’ dust on the newel post.”
    Clara couldn’t bear it. Here she’d been pitying herself, thinking her life so terrible now that she was dependent on Bentley’s sister and brother-in-law. She was ashamed as she recalled her spacious new room in Beatrice Trapp’s comfortable home, where she had no duties more onerous than helping Bea watch over two quiet girls.
    She shifted uncomfortably at the thought, and felt the plank behind her wobble loosely. That gave her an idea. “Listen—what is your name?”
    “Me name’s Rose, miss.”
    Clara was startled. “Why, so is mine! Clara Rose.” Then she bent to the wall once more, tapping softly. “Rose, I want you to push on this plank.” She tried to edge her fingers around it, but could get no purchase. Then a shove from the other side moved the plank out enough for her to gain a grip on the sides. Disregarding the splinters that sank into her fingertips, Clara gave a mighty yank. With a screech of dry wood giving up its long relationship with old nails, the plank swung inward and sideways.
    The wavering light of a tallow candle shone through the gap, then was blocked by a floppy white mobcap and a starveling little face.
    “Hullo, miss.”
    Seeing the tear-streaked visage and thin cheeks, Claracould only hold out one hand. The girl took it gingerly and let Clara pull her through the gap.
    When the maid stood upright, Clara was a bit surprised to see that she was much the same height. In fact, they were much the same in many ways. The girl was of a similar age, and had nearly identical coloring to herself. And there was the matter of her name.
    Struck by these odd similarities, Clara had a moment of odd displacement, as if she were looking at another self, a girl she might have been had she not had the few advantages she’d been born with.
    “‘There, but for the grace of God, go I,’ “she whispered.
    Rose blinked at her, rubbing one wrist beneath her nose and giving a great sniff. “What’s that, miss?”
    Clara shook her head and smiled. “It doesn’t matter.” She tugged on Rose’s hand. “Come down to the kitchen. We’ll have a nice cup of tea, and Cook will tend your back.”‘
    Rose pulled back. “Oh, no, I dasn’t! ’Tis a kind offer, and I thanks ye, miss, but if I don’t get back to me duties, I’ll be whipped again, or sacked!”
    “Well, let—” Clara almost said.
Let them sack you
, then realized how unthinking that was. If the girl had other options of employment, she’d hardly stay in such an untenable situation in the first place.
    The poor creature
must
go back to work, even in pain as she was, or be mistreated further. Clara couldn’t bear the thought.
    “Let me take your place,” she had blurted.
    And that had been the beginning of it all. She persuaded Rose to allow her to don her uniform and cap, and had seen for herself the awful conditions in which the girl