Read Online The White Forest by Adam McOmber - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Adam McOmber
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best I could do was hide myself in the darkest corners of Stoke Morrow and wait for them to go.
Father had finally given up on hiring tutors, saying I could educate myself in the library as I saw fit. “People aren’t reliable these days, Jane,” he said. “Learning to do for yourself is a better lesson than any those so-called teachers could provide.”
Instead of reading in the library as Father suggested, I wandered the long halls of our ancestral home. The objects murmured softly, often seeming more alive than the people in my life. I immersed myself in color and sound, readily intoxicated. I loved my father, yes, but even he was beginning to pale in comparison to the clamoring souls of these objects. I do not know when precisely I surrendered myself to the talent entirely, but I remember how I began to feel that I was no longer a girl. I was a wraith. I thought that if I continued to let myself go, I might be absorbed by the energy of the house, and if that happened, I wondered if anyone would think to look for me.
I must have looked like some ragged wastrel on the day that I first met Maddy and she drew me out of my dark corner on the stairs. I remember gazing into her violet-colored eyes and thinking I’d found my savior. If anyone could free me from the solipsistic prison I’d built, it was this lively child of the age.
I remember she attempted humor after she’d examined my dark and threadbare dress, asking if Stoke Morrow was perhaps some cloister. When I looked embarrassed, she softened and asked me to take the gray cap off my head.
I did as she wished, and she helped me unfasten my long hair from the tangle Miss Anne called a bun, then further surprised me by arranging my tresses. The maid only touched me when she had to, and it was strange to feel someone paying such loving attention to my body. Unlike the maids or my tutors, Maddy didn’t say I frightened her. She didn’t claim to see evil in me. I felt that if I stayedclose to her for long enough, I would become something new—a girl, normal in almost every respect.
“Your hair is a lovely color,” Maddy said. “Like burnished oak. We should brush it, don’t you think?”
And so we did, sitting at the vanity in my bedroom. I had no idea that we would sit just that way for years to come.
Maddy went through my wardrobe, searching for anything of color. She resorted to taking a red table covering from beneath the vase of flowers in the hall and fashioning a sort of wrap, which she put around my shoulders. She turned me toward the mirror. “I’m fond of paleness as much as the next girl, Jane,” she said. “It provides an air of dignity and interest, but I simply think you’ve taken it too far. You don’t look like a lily as much as like some phosphorescent plant growing in the gardens of the underworld.”
It was true; my skin was nearly translucent. Even my lips had only the faintest pigment. “I rarely go walking,” I admitted as I admired the wrap. The color red suited me, and I wondered how many different types of table coverings were in the house and what sort of clothes my new friend could make from them.
“My old friends in Mayfair and I would play at dressing up,” Maddy said. “They no longer speak to me, though.”
“Why is that?” I asked, wondering again what mystery this girl held.
“Because I suppose they weren’t really my friends to begin with,” she said. “You and I could be so much more for each other. We’ll assist one another in becoming women. I’m sure you have certain knowledge that would help even me.”
I didn’t think I knew anything that would help Madeline Lee, and yet I agreed. There was a moment, some bit of fun on her part, when she grabbed my hand, and I braced for her reaction to the transference. I thought she’d spring back and call me a devil when the house started singing around her, but Maddy reacted only with a moment of blankness. She seemed to be no longer focusing on my
Father had finally given up on hiring tutors, saying I could educate myself in the library as I saw fit. “People aren’t reliable these days, Jane,” he said. “Learning to do for yourself is a better lesson than any those so-called teachers could provide.”
Instead of reading in the library as Father suggested, I wandered the long halls of our ancestral home. The objects murmured softly, often seeming more alive than the people in my life. I immersed myself in color and sound, readily intoxicated. I loved my father, yes, but even he was beginning to pale in comparison to the clamoring souls of these objects. I do not know when precisely I surrendered myself to the talent entirely, but I remember how I began to feel that I was no longer a girl. I was a wraith. I thought that if I continued to let myself go, I might be absorbed by the energy of the house, and if that happened, I wondered if anyone would think to look for me.
I must have looked like some ragged wastrel on the day that I first met Maddy and she drew me out of my dark corner on the stairs. I remember gazing into her violet-colored eyes and thinking I’d found my savior. If anyone could free me from the solipsistic prison I’d built, it was this lively child of the age.
I remember she attempted humor after she’d examined my dark and threadbare dress, asking if Stoke Morrow was perhaps some cloister. When I looked embarrassed, she softened and asked me to take the gray cap off my head.
I did as she wished, and she helped me unfasten my long hair from the tangle Miss Anne called a bun, then further surprised me by arranging my tresses. The maid only touched me when she had to, and it was strange to feel someone paying such loving attention to my body. Unlike the maids or my tutors, Maddy didn’t say I frightened her. She didn’t claim to see evil in me. I felt that if I stayedclose to her for long enough, I would become something new—a girl, normal in almost every respect.
“Your hair is a lovely color,” Maddy said. “Like burnished oak. We should brush it, don’t you think?”
And so we did, sitting at the vanity in my bedroom. I had no idea that we would sit just that way for years to come.
Maddy went through my wardrobe, searching for anything of color. She resorted to taking a red table covering from beneath the vase of flowers in the hall and fashioning a sort of wrap, which she put around my shoulders. She turned me toward the mirror. “I’m fond of paleness as much as the next girl, Jane,” she said. “It provides an air of dignity and interest, but I simply think you’ve taken it too far. You don’t look like a lily as much as like some phosphorescent plant growing in the gardens of the underworld.”
It was true; my skin was nearly translucent. Even my lips had only the faintest pigment. “I rarely go walking,” I admitted as I admired the wrap. The color red suited me, and I wondered how many different types of table coverings were in the house and what sort of clothes my new friend could make from them.
“My old friends in Mayfair and I would play at dressing up,” Maddy said. “They no longer speak to me, though.”
“Why is that?” I asked, wondering again what mystery this girl held.
“Because I suppose they weren’t really my friends to begin with,” she said. “You and I could be so much more for each other. We’ll assist one another in becoming women. I’m sure you have certain knowledge that would help even me.”
I didn’t think I knew anything that would help Madeline Lee, and yet I agreed. There was a moment, some bit of fun on her part, when she grabbed my hand, and I braced for her reaction to the transference. I thought she’d spring back and call me a devil when the house started singing around her, but Maddy reacted only with a moment of blankness. She seemed to be no longer focusing on my
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