Read Online Midwinter Nightingale by Joan Aiken - Free Book Online Page A

swooping steps toward the animal and wrung its neck.
    “I hate cats. I will not have animals like that creeping and sneaking about this house,” he hissed. “Pray remember that! And you, girl, do me the kindness to get out of my sight. And out of this house!”
    “Papa!
How could you? You have killed my poor pus-sums! And under his cushion I was bringing you a letter from the duchess of Burgundy. I shan't give it to you now.” Jorinda's voice trembled with shock and outrage. “I was going to find opodeldoc to put your toe—”
    “Be silent, girl! Leave me alone. And don't show yourself before me again.”
    Sobbing with indignation rather than grief—for she had not been especially fond of the cat, which she kept simply because it was the fashion to keep a pet at school—Jorinda stumbled toward the door.
    “You go too, boy. And be sure she leaves this house tomorrow.”
    “Yes, sir. Yes, sir.”
    “And take that dead animal out of my sight. You can throw it into the moat to feed the pike.”
    “Are there really tiger pike in the moat?” Jorinda whispered as they walked slowly along the passage. “That's what my driver told me.” Her voice was very subdued.
    “Lord, yes! Big as bolsters. Take off your arm in one snap. That's why none of the fellers ever dared run away from school no matter how much old Pennycost beat em. Itd have meant swimming the moat, cos the bridge is pulled up at night. I reckon you musta got here just afore it was hoisted.”
    Lot had picked up a lamp as they left the dining chamber, and he now opened a door and led the way into a room that appeared to be a classroom. There were rows of wooden desks and a strong smell of ink and unwashed boys. Lot crossed to a window that was protected by bars, opened it, pushed the dead cat out between the bars and let go of it. Jorinda heard a splash.
    Lot burst into song.
    “I love little Pussy, her coat is so cold. She's gone to the fishes, she'll never grow old.” He broke off to say, “You must never sing or whistle in front of the Dad. He can't stand song or music of any kind.”
    “It was
horrible
of him to kill my cat,” Jorinda said angrily, wiping her eyes.
    “Well, what did you expect? He's extra ratty just now, because of his toe, I daresay.”
    “Has he really bought this house?”
    “Bet your boots he has. Because it was Ma's once, and he's glad she's gone.”
    “Where are all the boys? If it was a school?”
    “Most of em decamped—the ones who had parents in this country. There's just enough left to act as servants. And don't I just give it to em. Ha ha ha!
Walker!”
    “What's that moaning I can hear?”
    “The wind, most likely.”
    “No, it sounds like a man. Crying.”
    “Oh, 'well,” said her brother easily, “maybe it's one of the brats I had to give a licking to, for not coming quick enough when Pa rang his bell.”
    “Sounds more like a grown man to me.”
    “Well, it's none of your blazing business! Forget it. Now we gotta think how to get you away from here or Pa will be real mad. There's a carrier's cart comes by at seven in the morning, brings groceries and stuff. You'd best go with him; he'll take you to Clarion Wells.”
    Jorinda did not argue. Fogrum Hall was no place for her. She could see that. Even the cheap lodging house in Clarion Wells where she had left Nurse Mara would have been better.
    “Where can I sleep tonight?”
    “In here. The dormitories—the ones that don't have boys in em—are full of rats.”
    “But there's no bed.”
    “Put three chairs together,” Lot told her impatiently “I'll leave you the lamp.”
    He had put it on a desk. By its dim light the spots on his podgy face looked larger and blacker. She certainly did not wish for
his
company overnight, but she hatedthe thought of passing the night by herself in this cheerless room.
    To postpone the moment of being left alone, she said, “Will Papa really put you on the throne?”
    “Certain sure. They just have to find old