Read Online The Jade Dragon by Nancy Buckingham - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nancy Buckingham
Tags: gothic romance
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The candlelight, striking obliquely across Dona Amalia’s face, cast deep shadows, giving her gaunt features an almost skeletal look. I saw her eyes glitter in their dark sockets. Was it anger? Hatred? Or could it be tears? I had no means of knowing. I heard a sigh, faint as the rustle of leaves. Then slowly, as though a great weariness was weighing her down, my grandmother turned away and moved with heavy, measured footsteps to the door. There she paused, looking back at me. I seemed to hear another sigh; then the door clicked quietly, and she was gone.
In the darkness I lay trembling beneath the covers. What had brought Dona Amalia here, I wondered apprehensively? What strongly felt emotion from my grandmother’s waking thoughts had remained with her into sleep, prompting the old lady’s unconscious mind to lead her to my room tonight? For clearly, she had been sleepwalking.
I was afraid I would not get to sleep again. But I must have drifted off eventually, for the next thing I knew it was morning, with daylight seeping through the window drapes. Instantly, the strange episode of the night hours flooded back to me. But was it real, I wondered, or merely the product of my fevered imagination? Had I in fact slept the whole night through and been left with this vivid recollection of what was only a dream?
I turned my head and gazed thoughtfully at the door by which I had seen my grandmother enter. Then a shock pulsed through my body. Sitting before the door, as if guarding my escape, was a large albino cat. It met my gaze and stared back at me unblinkingly with its pale pink eyes. So here was proof that what I remembered had been no dream. The cat must have followed my grandmother’s sleepwalking figure and become trapped by the closing door when she departed. I shuddered to think that this hostile creature had spent the night in my bedroom, silently prowling the floor as I slept, watching me angrily with its keen, feline vision that could penetrate the dark.
Irrationally, I felt afraid of the creature. I knew I was being foolish, yet I could not shake off the feeling. For the sake of company, I reached for the bell rope above my head and tugged it. And when Maria appeared a minute later, a bright smile on her round rosy face, the cat slipped past her through the open door and escaped.
Chapter 5
During the afternoon, I was summoned for the second time to my grandmother’s presence.
I had been sitting alone in the garden room, where brilliantly plumaged songbirds in two large aviaries filled the scented air with their chirping. Before me on the scrolled metal table lay pen and notepaper. My intention was to write to Dr. and Mrs. Carlisle, informing them of my safe arrival. The opening paragraphs had come easily. A description of the voyage and the excitement of a storm at sea, the thrill of my first sight of Lisbon rising in tiers upon its seven hills, the magical, pellucid quality of the light that gave a soft brilliance to every color. But they would also want to hear about my grandmother and the kind of welcome I had received when I finally reached Castanheiros. And what should I tell them about that?
It was Josepha, my grandmother’s elderly maid, who sought me out. She stood in the doorway with set, sullen features and announced that her mistress was demanding to see me. I told her I would come at once and gathered up the pages of my letter, almost relieved to have an excuse for postponing its completion. As I followed the servant, I wondered uneasily if my grandmother would have any recollection of her sleepwalking visit to my bedroom during the night.
I was led through to the inner room, where Dona Amalia was propped up in her canopied bed against a mountain of lace-edged pillows. She wore gold-framed spectacles, and she was cutting the pages of a book with an ivory knife. At the foot of the bed, the golden cat and the black and silver tabby lay watching me.
“Well, sit down, Elinor.” A wave of
In the darkness I lay trembling beneath the covers. What had brought Dona Amalia here, I wondered apprehensively? What strongly felt emotion from my grandmother’s waking thoughts had remained with her into sleep, prompting the old lady’s unconscious mind to lead her to my room tonight? For clearly, she had been sleepwalking.
I was afraid I would not get to sleep again. But I must have drifted off eventually, for the next thing I knew it was morning, with daylight seeping through the window drapes. Instantly, the strange episode of the night hours flooded back to me. But was it real, I wondered, or merely the product of my fevered imagination? Had I in fact slept the whole night through and been left with this vivid recollection of what was only a dream?
I turned my head and gazed thoughtfully at the door by which I had seen my grandmother enter. Then a shock pulsed through my body. Sitting before the door, as if guarding my escape, was a large albino cat. It met my gaze and stared back at me unblinkingly with its pale pink eyes. So here was proof that what I remembered had been no dream. The cat must have followed my grandmother’s sleepwalking figure and become trapped by the closing door when she departed. I shuddered to think that this hostile creature had spent the night in my bedroom, silently prowling the floor as I slept, watching me angrily with its keen, feline vision that could penetrate the dark.
Irrationally, I felt afraid of the creature. I knew I was being foolish, yet I could not shake off the feeling. For the sake of company, I reached for the bell rope above my head and tugged it. And when Maria appeared a minute later, a bright smile on her round rosy face, the cat slipped past her through the open door and escaped.
Chapter 5
During the afternoon, I was summoned for the second time to my grandmother’s presence.
I had been sitting alone in the garden room, where brilliantly plumaged songbirds in two large aviaries filled the scented air with their chirping. Before me on the scrolled metal table lay pen and notepaper. My intention was to write to Dr. and Mrs. Carlisle, informing them of my safe arrival. The opening paragraphs had come easily. A description of the voyage and the excitement of a storm at sea, the thrill of my first sight of Lisbon rising in tiers upon its seven hills, the magical, pellucid quality of the light that gave a soft brilliance to every color. But they would also want to hear about my grandmother and the kind of welcome I had received when I finally reached Castanheiros. And what should I tell them about that?
It was Josepha, my grandmother’s elderly maid, who sought me out. She stood in the doorway with set, sullen features and announced that her mistress was demanding to see me. I told her I would come at once and gathered up the pages of my letter, almost relieved to have an excuse for postponing its completion. As I followed the servant, I wondered uneasily if my grandmother would have any recollection of her sleepwalking visit to my bedroom during the night.
I was led through to the inner room, where Dona Amalia was propped up in her canopied bed against a mountain of lace-edged pillows. She wore gold-framed spectacles, and she was cutting the pages of a book with an ivory knife. At the foot of the bed, the golden cat and the black and silver tabby lay watching me.
“Well, sit down, Elinor.” A wave of
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