Read Online The Two Lords of Wealdhant Manor by Katherine Marlowe - Free Book Online

within. There was only one other door in the room. He went through it to a darker, narrow little hallway on the other side. A gloomy stairwell descended from one end of the hall.
    “Where are you?” Algernon called, temper pricked by the audacity of any theoretical ghosts who thought they could spook him. “Show yourself!”
    A whirl of air brushed past his ear. It sounded like the rattling of dead leaves, though there were no trees in the immediate vicinity of the house. There were no words in the whispering of the air, though Algernon felt an illogical conviction that there were meant to have been.
    “I’m Tabitha’s heir,” he told the empty hallway. “I’m all that’s left of the Allesbury line. Wealdhant is mine.”
    Cold fingertips brushed across his throat.
    Algernon grabbed the open door that he’d just come through and slammed it behind himself in a fit of pique. He, too, could slam doors.
    Silence followed.
    “Who are you?” Algernon asked the silence. “Are you Ruth?”
    The draught huffed icily at his ear, and then it was gone.
    This time, the hallway felt truly empty and silent.
    “The devil with you,” Algernon muttered, and returned back the way he’d come.

Chapter Five
    Jasper
    “ J asper . Jasper!”
    Startled from a reverie, Jasper lifted his eyes from the fire to where his sister Ginevra was trying to get his attention. The book he had been reading lay open and forgotten in his lap, and Ginevra had that irritable, compressed-lip expression which suggested that she had called his name repeatedly before he had noticed.
    “What is it?” he asked.
    “I only said that it had stopped snowing.” She sighed, and dropped her embroidery into her lap. “What is it that has you so distracted? The new lord of Wealdhant, again?”
    “He isn’t the lord of Wealdhant, he’s an imposter.”
    Ginevra rolled her eyes. “Of course, I know, you are the rightful Lord of the Manor, and we the ladies. Have you told him so? Take that tattered old handkerchief and say to him, ‘Sir, we have an old family legend which claims that we are the descendants of the old Earl, and look, here is a handkerchief with Ruth’s name on it.’ Certain proof, to be sure.”
    “If we are descendants of the old Earl,” Jasper said, getting up and tossing his book onto the little side table. “Then we are illegitimate by-blows, and nothing more.”
    Their cozy home in the four-room groundskeeper’s cottage had felt stifling ever since he had seen inside the vast and mysterious Wealdhant Manor and met the handsome and infuriating Mr. Clarke. He paced to the fireplace and leaned against the mantelpiece.
    “You used to love the old story.” Ginevra said, seemingly resolved to prick at his temper. “Back when you were young and half-wild and actually a spot of fun.”
    Clenching his jaw, Jasper ignored her.
    “If it has stopped snowing,” Ginevra said, “you might go for a walk.”
    Phoebe suddenly leaned her head in from the kitchen. “Oh, please go for a walk, Jasper!”
    “What is this nonsense about a walk? The snow is still a foot deep, what shall I? Trudge through it an hour or more to Wilston?”
    “If it will get you out of our hair,” Ginevra said, making a show of working attentively at her embroidery. “You have been broody and irritable all week, Jasper, and you’re driving us to distraction.”
    “Go see Lord Clarke!” Phoebe called.
    Jasper stormed into the kitchen. “He isn’t Lord Clarke, he’s simply Mr. Clarke, and he has banned me from Wealdhant.”
    Elbows deep in flour, Phoebe levelled a stern gaze at him. “Go anyway.”
    Jasper scowled.
    Phoebe flicked her fingers at him, sending a puff of flour at his face. “I banish thee, ill-tempered spirit. Go.”
    Jasper pressed his hand to the bridge of his nose and drew upon his reserves of patience. “Very well. If my own family casts me out!”
    “Oh, thank heaven,” said Ginevra. “Are you going?”
    “Don’t forget your hat!”