Read Online The Light in the Darkness by Ellen Fisher - Free Book Online Page B

pomading and powdering her hair. Otherwise she might be thought peculiar, as I am, simply because I prefer my own hair to someone else’s. But then, I do not suppose you should concern yourself overmuch, for I imagine she will be considered odd anyway.”
    “I hope not,” Catherine responded, unwilling to let him anger her. “For, you see, I do intend to turn her into a ‘model of feminine deportment,’ as you put it. I do not think the task will be too difficult.”
    Grey smiled derisively. “I think you’re wrong.”
    But Catherine noted with satisfaction that his eyes strayed back to Jennifer repeatedly throughout the rest of the meal.
    When at last the last course, a creamy and delicious dessert called syllabub, had been served and the ordeal of dinner was over, Jennifer fled up the stairs to her chamber, which had been dusted and aired out somewhat this afternoon. A slave helped her out of the green gown and banked the fire that had warmed the chilly air in the chamber. Clad only in her shift, she lay on the dark blue coverlet of the big mahogany bed and stared blindly at the canopy.
    She was well aware that neither member of the household was pleased by her presence. Despite her kind words and sympathetic gestures, Catherine clearly resented the fact that she was here. She had quite pointedly treated Jennifer as a subordinate. Catherine was obviously determinedto remain the mistress here, to maintain her control over the little world that was Greyhaven.
    Jennifer was astute enough to realize that Catherine’s apparent interest in transforming her into a lady was simply an attempt to turn the tables on Grey. Grey had begun a war by bringing home a tavern wench as his wife. He had won the first battle, shocking and scandalizing his sister. But Catherine, like a good general, had already engaged him in another skirmish by announcing her intention of transforming his wife into a lady. Jennifer was nothing more than a pawn in a family game for power and control. Catherine, she was certain, cared nothing for her well-being at all.
    And Grey—Grey liked her even less than Catherine did.
    She had never realized before that there are different kinds of abuse. Her uncle’s physical abuse had been straightforward enough, and she had dreaded it, but the psychological torture Grey was inflicting upon her was a more insidious sort of abuse. She would almost rather have been beaten than face her husband’s vicious remarks and cold stares every day. And she was beginning to realize that it would be a daily torment. Even if she could avoid him most of the time, she would still have to sit across the table from him each evening at dinner and be on the receiving end of his foul moods.
    It was a disturbing thought, disturbing enough to cause her to toss and turn despite the unaccustomed softness of the feather mattress and the rope springs of the bed. At last, quite certain that she would get no sleep despite her exhausted and aching body, she rose quietly, drew on her old indigo gown—for she could not lace herself into that dreadful green gown without help—lit a candle with the tinderbox on the table next to her bed, and walked quietly down the stairs.
    At the tavern, she had often sneaked outside at night and stared at the stars. It was the only time in her life of hard work and servitude when she ever had a few moments to herself. She found it very relaxing to lie on herback in the grass, looking at the brilliant points of light scattered thickly across the sky and listening to the music in her head. She never mentioned the music anymore. Once she had told her uncle that she heard music in her head, tunes that she had never before heard, melody and harmony weaving into a beautiful whole, and he had slapped her. “Bloody daft bitch,” he’d said.
    Since then she had told no one, not even Carey, for fear of being thought mad. But the music was beautiful, and she only heard it when she was at peace. There had been little