Read Online This House is Haunted by John Boyne - Free Book Online Page A

you’ve been brought here under false pretences. That is a phrase, isn’t it?” she added. “I read it in a book recently and rather liked the sound of it.”
    “It is a phrase, yes,” I said. “Although I don’t think it can mean what you think it means. I’ve been hired to be your governess. Your father placed the advertisement in the Morning Post .” I didn’t care what Heckling had said; the notion that the previous governess had placed the notice was quite absurd.
    “He didn’t, as it happens,” said the girl lightly, and now Eustace turned and pressed his small body against hers, and she put an arm around him. It was true, he was a delicate child. I thought he could break quite easily. “Perhaps we should sit down, Miss Caine,” she said, leading the way towards the drawing room. “You must be tired after your journey.”
    I followed in astonishment, both amused and disturbed by her grown-up manner. She waited until I had sat down on along sofa before taking her place in an armchair opposite me, as if she was mistress of Gaudlin and not the daughter of the house. Eustace hovered between us but then chose to sit at the very end of the sofa, staring at his toes.
    “Your parents are home, aren’t they?” I asked, sitting opposite her, beginning to wonder whether this entire position was some elaborate ruse, designed to fool a grieving young woman for no apparent reason. Perhaps the family was comprised of lunatics.
    “They’re not, I’m afraid,” she said. “There’s just Eustace and me. Mrs. Livermore comes in every day to take care of various things. She does a little cooking and leaves meals for us. I hope you like overcooked meat and undercooked vegetables. But she lives in the village. And you’ve met Heckling, of course. He has a cottage out near the stables. Dreadful man, don’t you agree? He reminds me of an ape. And doesn’t he smell funny?”
    “He smells of the horses,” said Eustace, grinning at me, displaying a missing front tooth, and I could not prevent myself, despite my disquiet, from smiling back.
    “He does rather,” I said before turning back to his sister. “I’m sorry,” I said, my tone expressing my confusion. “You didn’t tell me your name.”
    “Didn’t I?”
    “No.”
    She frowned and nodded, waiting the longest time before replying. “How rude of me,” she said. “My name is Isabella Westerley. I am named for one of the great Queens of Spain.”
    “Isabella of Castille,” I said, remembering my history.
    “That’s the one,” she replied, apparently pleased that I knew to whom she was referring. “My mother was born in Cantabria, you see. My father, on the other hand, was born here. In this very house.”
    “So you’re half English, half Spanish?” I said.
    “Yes, if you want to talk of me in terms of fractions,” she replied.
    I stared at her, then looked around. There were some interesting paintings in the room—forebears of the current inhabitants, I assumed—and a rather lovely tapestry on the wall that faced out towards the courtyard, and it crossed my mind that I would enjoy studying these in more detail the following day, in sunlight.
    “But you don’t,” I began, wondering how to phrase this. “You don’t live here alone, surely? Just the two of you?”
    “Oh no, of course not,” said Isabella. “We’re far too young to be left alone.”
    I exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank heavens for that,” I said. “Well, if your parents aren’t here, then who is? Could you call for the adult of the house?”
    To my astonishment, without moving even slightly on her seat, Isabella opened her mouth and let out an extraordinary and chilling scream. At least, I thought it was a scream until I realized that she had, in fact, simply called my name. Eliza Caine.
    “What on earth?” I said, placing a hand to my breast in fright. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest. I glanced across at Eustace but he seemed unperturbed, merely