Read Online The Bluebeard Room by Carolyn Keene - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carolyn Keene
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until you and Landreth came and helped me up.”
She said she had been coming to pay a neighborly call on the Penvellyns, and the village postmistress had asked her to deliver a letter to their young American visitor. Unfortunately, she had dropped it when her bike overturned. Landreth retrieved the bicycle, but neither he nor the maid could find the letter.
Miss Bosinny was much distressed. “Oh my! I’m dreadfully sorry, Miss Drew. I don’t know how I could have been so careless!”
“Never mind,” Nancy smiled. “I’m sure it’ll turn up. It was good of you to bring it.”
The next morning Lisa showed Nancy around the castle.
“The original stronghold was built by the Normans back in the twelfth century,” she explained. “Most of it has crumbled away, but the central keep has been preserved. Beginning in the 1500’s, wings were added, connecting the keep to other buildings inside the bailey, or outer wall. We’re living in the newest wing, which I’m told was built in 1650 or thereabouts.”
Nancy chuckled. “1650 is close enough for me. I must say, it’s withstood the centuries very well.”
“We’ve added a few modern conveniences, of course, like central heating and plumbing.”
Nancy was glad to hear her friend laugh. Her visit already seemed to have cheered Lisa up.
The older, unoccupied parts of the castle were now open to public tours. Much of the woodwork in these areas had long ago rotted away, and most of the furnishings, too, had decayed or been removed, leaving little behind but drafty, echoing stone ruins. But as the two friends strolled back to the central keep, Nancy was surprised to see one room shut off by a stout, iron-bound oak door.
“What’s in here?” she asked curiously.
“I don’t know.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
Lisa hesitated. Her cheeks seemed to have lostcolor again. “Hugh keeps that room shut up. I’m not sure why, but he—he seems to feel quite strongly about it, so I respect his wishes.”
Nancy couldn’t help remembering the old fairytale about Bluebeard, who forbade his beautiful young wife ever to open a certain room in his castle. When she did and discovered its sinister secret—the heads of former wives he had murdered—she almost became another of his victims. Seeing her friend’s unhappy face, however, Nancy kept her thoughts to herself.
When the girls returned to the great hall of the castle, Lisa was ready for “elevenses,” the British version of a morning snack. Nancy was eager to see the village, but she couldn’t persuade Lisa to accompany her.
“You’ll enjoy it more by yourself, Nancy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’ve told you most of the villagers will hardly speak to me. I think they’re more apt to be friendly to you if they don’t see us together.”
Nancy set off downhill, preferring to stretch her legs rather than borrow Lisa’s bike. Polpenny was little more than a cluster of stone cottages, most of them whitewashed and thatch-roofed, circling the cove. All activity seemed to center on the cobbled high street around the harbor, but even that seemed none too busy. There were only two or three wooden docks. Most of the boats were simplydrawn up on the stony shingle which sloped down into the water. Coming to the small town hall, she decided to introduce herself to the local constable. “My name’s Nancy Drew.”
The young policeman nodded and smiled politely. “Yes, ma’am, I know. I’m Constable Kenyon.”
Nancy was surprised but went on diffidently, “Then maybe you also know I’m an amateur detective?”
“Yes, Miss. I’ve read about some of your cases.”
“Would you mind if I asked you some questions?”
“Of course not. Please have a chair.”
“Thank you.” Nancy sat down. “There’s a rock musician, Ian Purcell, who stayed in Polpenny while he was getting over his drug habit.”
Constable Kenyon nodded again, somewhat tight-lipped. “Yes, ma’am, I know him.”
“Have you
She said she had been coming to pay a neighborly call on the Penvellyns, and the village postmistress had asked her to deliver a letter to their young American visitor. Unfortunately, she had dropped it when her bike overturned. Landreth retrieved the bicycle, but neither he nor the maid could find the letter.
Miss Bosinny was much distressed. “Oh my! I’m dreadfully sorry, Miss Drew. I don’t know how I could have been so careless!”
“Never mind,” Nancy smiled. “I’m sure it’ll turn up. It was good of you to bring it.”
The next morning Lisa showed Nancy around the castle.
“The original stronghold was built by the Normans back in the twelfth century,” she explained. “Most of it has crumbled away, but the central keep has been preserved. Beginning in the 1500’s, wings were added, connecting the keep to other buildings inside the bailey, or outer wall. We’re living in the newest wing, which I’m told was built in 1650 or thereabouts.”
Nancy chuckled. “1650 is close enough for me. I must say, it’s withstood the centuries very well.”
“We’ve added a few modern conveniences, of course, like central heating and plumbing.”
Nancy was glad to hear her friend laugh. Her visit already seemed to have cheered Lisa up.
The older, unoccupied parts of the castle were now open to public tours. Much of the woodwork in these areas had long ago rotted away, and most of the furnishings, too, had decayed or been removed, leaving little behind but drafty, echoing stone ruins. But as the two friends strolled back to the central keep, Nancy was surprised to see one room shut off by a stout, iron-bound oak door.
“What’s in here?” she asked curiously.
“I don’t know.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
Lisa hesitated. Her cheeks seemed to have lostcolor again. “Hugh keeps that room shut up. I’m not sure why, but he—he seems to feel quite strongly about it, so I respect his wishes.”
Nancy couldn’t help remembering the old fairytale about Bluebeard, who forbade his beautiful young wife ever to open a certain room in his castle. When she did and discovered its sinister secret—the heads of former wives he had murdered—she almost became another of his victims. Seeing her friend’s unhappy face, however, Nancy kept her thoughts to herself.
When the girls returned to the great hall of the castle, Lisa was ready for “elevenses,” the British version of a morning snack. Nancy was eager to see the village, but she couldn’t persuade Lisa to accompany her.
“You’ll enjoy it more by yourself, Nancy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’ve told you most of the villagers will hardly speak to me. I think they’re more apt to be friendly to you if they don’t see us together.”
Nancy set off downhill, preferring to stretch her legs rather than borrow Lisa’s bike. Polpenny was little more than a cluster of stone cottages, most of them whitewashed and thatch-roofed, circling the cove. All activity seemed to center on the cobbled high street around the harbor, but even that seemed none too busy. There were only two or three wooden docks. Most of the boats were simplydrawn up on the stony shingle which sloped down into the water. Coming to the small town hall, she decided to introduce herself to the local constable. “My name’s Nancy Drew.”
The young policeman nodded and smiled politely. “Yes, ma’am, I know. I’m Constable Kenyon.”
Nancy was surprised but went on diffidently, “Then maybe you also know I’m an amateur detective?”
“Yes, Miss. I’ve read about some of your cases.”
“Would you mind if I asked you some questions?”
“Of course not. Please have a chair.”
“Thank you.” Nancy sat down. “There’s a rock musician, Ian Purcell, who stayed in Polpenny while he was getting over his drug habit.”
Constable Kenyon nodded again, somewhat tight-lipped. “Yes, ma’am, I know him.”
“Have you
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