Read Online Lessons After Dark by Isabel Cooper - Free Book Online Page A

of you teach there?”
    â€œMrs. Brightmore does,” Charlotte replied easily. “I’m a rather overgrown student, but they’ve been kind enough to take me nonetheless.”
    The younger of the two customers smiled. Her mother shook her head. “My father used to tell stories about that forest, you know.”
    â€œOh?” Olivia looked up from examining the silk.
    â€œMm. Lightning on clear nights sometimes, he said. And a white bird with gold eyes, once, that acted…queerly.” The woman gave Olivia a somewhat rusty smile, then glanced from Mrs. Simmons’s blank face to her daughter’s nervous frown. “Fireside tales, I should say, and he had most of them secondhand. Probably no more than a barn owl and some lads setting off fireworks.”
    â€œI wouldn’t be at all surprised if the fireworks started up again these days,” Olivia said, “though I’ll do my best to prevent it.”
    She tried to sound simply amused and thought she did a good job. After all, the woman’s father probably had been in a condition to see things. Olivia refrained from asking what precisely he’d been doing in the forest at the time. Stories got exaggerated in the telling. She turned back to examining the silk, said a polite farewell to the women, and didn’t ask any more questions.
    Still, the fittings gave her time to wonder and to think that if the weather held and she could find a map, she might go for a walk in the forest sometime soon.

Chapter 8
    When it started raining, Gareth thought there was probably something wrong.
    Granted, that was no sure thing. It was autumn in England, and the last few days had been sullen and drizzly, enough so he’d been keeping to the flagstone paths in the garden rather than risk his leg on the wet ground. He’d been expecting to feel a drop or two any moment and to go inside when they became steady.
    Instead, the clouds overhead opened.
    By the time Gareth reached the shelter of the house again, he was muttering under his breath, curses he’d picked up from his men and which, therefore, he cut off quickly as he glimpsed a female figure at the end of the hall. Wiping the water away from his face, he saw it was Mrs. Brightmore, gripping Fitzpatrick’s shoulder firmly and glaring sideways at Fairley.
    Outside, he heard the rain already beginning to slack off.
    â€œBecause other people aren’t there for our convenience, that’s why,” Mrs. Brightmore was saying. “Even—especially if we can do things they can’t.”
    â€œSo I shouldn’t bother—?” Fitzpatrick began, his voice muffled and nasal. Now Gareth saw he was holding a handkerchief to his face. Blood had already liberally spotted the white cotton.
    â€œThat’s entirely different.”
    â€œWhy?” asked Fitzpatrick.
    â€œI’ll explain later. When your nose isn’t broken.” She turned back toward the hall, saw Gareth, and gave him a look that mingled relief and apology. She didn’t quite hide her resentment at feeling both. “Dr. St. John,” she said, “I’m so sorry to disturb you, particularly now, but we seem to have a situation.”
    â€œSo I see,” he said and repressed a sigh.
    â€œWe can, however, wait for you to”—Mrs. Brightmore waved a hand—“to be more comfortable. Michael, go upstairs and have one of the servants bring some towels. And a pot of tea. Then go to your room and wait for me there.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œI really don’t think—” Gareth began even as Fairley opened his mouth to protest.
    â€œ Now , please,” said Mrs. Brightmore.
    The tone sent Fairley up the stairs without further ado and even made Gareth flinch. Inwardly, of course. He cleared his throat. “I’m much obliged, ma’am, but I’ll see Fitzpatrick now. I have,” he added in response to the dubious look on her