Read Online Lacybourne Manor by Kristen Ashley - Free Book Online Page B

Sibyl held her breath.
    “We could use a drink, perhaps
a bit of wine?” Her eyes slid to Sibyl. “Or, in your state, do you
think you should have wine, dear?”
    He didn’t wait for Sibyl’s
reply, however, he simply left the room.
    The Goddess of the Antarctic
slid into the room not five minutes later with an opened bottle of
red wine and two exquisite, full-bodied, crystal wine glasses.
After plonking them down on a table, without another word, she slid
out again.
    “ Never mind,” Mrs. Byrne
said to the other woman’s parting back. Then, enthusiastically, she
turned to Sibyl, completely dismissing the other two beings who
currently inhabited the house with them and were likely plotting
their bloody demise, she asked conversationally, “Tell me all about
yourself. I want to know everything .”
    Sibyl, needing an excuse
not to think about the freakish evening, did as Mrs. Byrne asked.
As she talked, Mrs. Byrne would interrupt with strange comments
such as, “Of course, your father is English,” and, “Brightrose
Cottage, now that’s most interesting.”
    When Sibyl was finished
relating her life story, drinking a glass of wine and eating her
meagre portion of cheese, she poured more wine (rather clumsily as
she was still holding the ice pack to her head).
    “Now, Mrs. Byrne,” she invited,
“tell me about you.”
    Over their second glass, Mrs.
Byrne told her about her dead husband, Arthur, her two children,
her five grandchildren, her three cats, her life as a librarian,
her retirement ten years ago and her seven year tenure at
Lacybourne Manor.
    “ Alas, I fear that is
over,” she shrugged eloquently, giving Sibyl another bright-eyed
look, her blithe comment making Sibyl want to laugh at the same
time it made her want to grab Mrs. Byrne’s hand and give it a
reassuring squeeze.
    Sibyl had to admit, talking to
the older woman was quite relaxing. She liked her immensely. Mrs.
Byrne obviously adored her family and had a great sense of humour
and, under any other circumstances, Sibyl would have enjoyed their
conversation greatly.
    Then, Princess Glacier glided
into the room again and told them it was time for bed.
    Mrs. Byrne saw to letting
Mallory and Bran out for a last minute comfort break (and Sibyl
just stopped herself from encouraging the older woman to make a
break for it) while the black-haired woman took Sibyl up a back
stairwell to the upper floor of the house.
    Sibyl would not have been
surprised if she put them in the servants’ quarters but instead she
was shown into an enormous, beautifully appointed room filled with
priceless antique furniture and a colossal four-poster bed with
exquisite muted gold and sage green drapes, coverlet and a massive
quantity of fluffy pillows.
    The only problem was that the
room was freezing cold.
    Sibyl decided she would freeze
to death before she would utter one, single word.
    “Mrs. Byrne will be in the room
across the hall.” With that, Mistress Frosty took her leave and
shortly after, Mrs. Byrne let Mallory and Bran into Sibyl’s
room.
    “You rest, dear, I’ll come in
and check on you every half an hour.”
    “You don’t have to do that,
Mrs. Byrne. I’m sure I’m fine.”
    And if she wasn’t, it would be
Mr. Morgan’s just desserts to have to explain her dead body to
Albert and Marguerite Godwin. Her Dad and Mom might look like a mad
scientist and stereotypical archetype of Mother Nature but they
both had tempers that could rival… well… Sibyl’s when it was riled
and that was a mighty feat.
    “Please, call me Marian,” Mrs.
Byrne broke into Sibyl’s vindictive reverie.
    When the older woman left,
Sibyl took a look around her at the beautiful room and decided her
best bet was not to disturb anything at all.
    With some pleading and a good
deal of stern words, she managed to keep Mallory off the bed. The
big dog sighed his displeasure and settled on the floor. Bran,
however, never followed orders and curled happily at the foot of
the