Read Online Secret for a Nightingale by Victoria Holt - Free Book Online
Authors: Victoria Holt
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follow me …”
I did so down the spiral staircase and then down another. Emily knocked on a door and opened it. I went in. Amelia was presiding over a tea-tray. Aubrey rose as I entered.
It was a pleasant room high-ceilinged like all of them, the walls lined with tapestries and the seats of the chairs were in needlepoint.
It was a cosy room.
“You have been quick,” said Aubrey.
“I hope you find the room pleasant.”
“It’s more than pleasant. It’s splendid. I don’t think I shall ever get used to being in such a house.”
“That is something you will have to do, nevertheless,” said Aubrey.
“How do you like your tea?” asked Amelia.
“Strong? Weak? Cream?
Sugar? “
I told her and she handed me the cup. She said: “after tea, you must come and see Stephen. He has heard you have arrived and is so eager to meet you.”
“I shall be delighted. Is he in bed?”
“At the moment, yes. Sometimes he gets up and sits in his chair in the window. That is on one of his good days.”
“I am ready whenever it is convenient.”
“Cook has made these cakes for you. You have to try them. She gets hurry if her food is not appreciated.”
“Thank you. They look delicious.”
“I want to show you the house,” said Aubrey.
“I’m longing to see it.”
I glanced through the windows.
“Those are the stables,” said Aubrey.
“They seem rather extensive.”
“My father kept a good stable and Stephen has been the same. We’re a horsey family.”
“Do you like riding?” asked Amelia.
“I haven’t ridden a great deal. I used to amble round on my pony in India and then when I went to school we didn’t ride very much. I was with my uncle and aunt in the country and I rode a little then. I like it but I would not call myself a horsewoman.”
“We’ll soon remedy that,” said Aubrey.
“You need a horse here. We’re isolated.”
“The town is about two miles from us,” added Amelia.
“And then it is only a small one.”
She asked me about India and I told her of my childhood and how during the days in my uncle’s rectory I had felt a longing to return.
“I saw it through rose-coloured glasses all those years when I was at school, and then when I went back …”
“You had taken off the glasses,” said Amelia, ‘and you saw it in the cold light of day. “
“She had put them back when she saw me,” said Aubrey.
Amelia looked a little startled but Aubrey was laughing
When tea was over Amelia said she would go and see how Stephen was and if he was awake she thought it would be a good time for me to see him.
She left me with Aubrey for a few moments. He sat still, watching me intently.
“This is very sad for Amelia,” I said.
“She must be very worried about her husband.”
“He has been ill for some time. She has known for weeks that he cannot live.”
“She is very brave.”
He was silent. Then he said: “Do you think you will like this house?”
“Y-yes, I think so.”
“You’re hesitating.”
“At the moment it seems a little strange. Alien, perhaps.”
“Alien! What do you mean?”
“You said that houses are a part of the family. Families often resent newcomers. And I’m to be that.”
“Nonsense. Did you feel that Amelia resents you?”
“No. Certainly not.”
“The gatehouse? The portcullis? The winter parlour? Do they?”
“Well, it has taken me by surprise. I was not imagining such an ancient place. You didn’t warn me enough.”
“I didn’t want to overpraise and have you disappointed.”
“As if I could have been!”
The door opened.
“He’s awake,” said Amelia.
“He wants very much to see you.”
“Come on, then,” said Aubrey.
Stephen St. Clare was propped up in the big fourposter bed with its hanging of petit-point embroidery on a cream background. He was obviously very ill. His face was a yellowish grey, his dark eyes sunken; his clawlike hands lay on the counterpane.
“This is Susanna, Stephen,” said
I did so down the spiral staircase and then down another. Emily knocked on a door and opened it. I went in. Amelia was presiding over a tea-tray. Aubrey rose as I entered.
It was a pleasant room high-ceilinged like all of them, the walls lined with tapestries and the seats of the chairs were in needlepoint.
It was a cosy room.
“You have been quick,” said Aubrey.
“I hope you find the room pleasant.”
“It’s more than pleasant. It’s splendid. I don’t think I shall ever get used to being in such a house.”
“That is something you will have to do, nevertheless,” said Aubrey.
“How do you like your tea?” asked Amelia.
“Strong? Weak? Cream?
Sugar? “
I told her and she handed me the cup. She said: “after tea, you must come and see Stephen. He has heard you have arrived and is so eager to meet you.”
“I shall be delighted. Is he in bed?”
“At the moment, yes. Sometimes he gets up and sits in his chair in the window. That is on one of his good days.”
“I am ready whenever it is convenient.”
“Cook has made these cakes for you. You have to try them. She gets hurry if her food is not appreciated.”
“Thank you. They look delicious.”
“I want to show you the house,” said Aubrey.
“I’m longing to see it.”
I glanced through the windows.
“Those are the stables,” said Aubrey.
“They seem rather extensive.”
“My father kept a good stable and Stephen has been the same. We’re a horsey family.”
“Do you like riding?” asked Amelia.
“I haven’t ridden a great deal. I used to amble round on my pony in India and then when I went to school we didn’t ride very much. I was with my uncle and aunt in the country and I rode a little then. I like it but I would not call myself a horsewoman.”
“We’ll soon remedy that,” said Aubrey.
“You need a horse here. We’re isolated.”
“The town is about two miles from us,” added Amelia.
“And then it is only a small one.”
She asked me about India and I told her of my childhood and how during the days in my uncle’s rectory I had felt a longing to return.
“I saw it through rose-coloured glasses all those years when I was at school, and then when I went back …”
“You had taken off the glasses,” said Amelia, ‘and you saw it in the cold light of day. “
“She had put them back when she saw me,” said Aubrey.
Amelia looked a little startled but Aubrey was laughing
When tea was over Amelia said she would go and see how Stephen was and if he was awake she thought it would be a good time for me to see him.
She left me with Aubrey for a few moments. He sat still, watching me intently.
“This is very sad for Amelia,” I said.
“She must be very worried about her husband.”
“He has been ill for some time. She has known for weeks that he cannot live.”
“She is very brave.”
He was silent. Then he said: “Do you think you will like this house?”
“Y-yes, I think so.”
“You’re hesitating.”
“At the moment it seems a little strange. Alien, perhaps.”
“Alien! What do you mean?”
“You said that houses are a part of the family. Families often resent newcomers. And I’m to be that.”
“Nonsense. Did you feel that Amelia resents you?”
“No. Certainly not.”
“The gatehouse? The portcullis? The winter parlour? Do they?”
“Well, it has taken me by surprise. I was not imagining such an ancient place. You didn’t warn me enough.”
“I didn’t want to overpraise and have you disappointed.”
“As if I could have been!”
The door opened.
“He’s awake,” said Amelia.
“He wants very much to see you.”
“Come on, then,” said Aubrey.
Stephen St. Clare was propped up in the big fourposter bed with its hanging of petit-point embroidery on a cream background. He was obviously very ill. His face was a yellowish grey, his dark eyes sunken; his clawlike hands lay on the counterpane.
“This is Susanna, Stephen,” said
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