Read Online Voices in a Haunted Room by Philippa Carr - Free Book Online
Authors: Philippa Carr
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shine forth.
“It must be exciting,” he said, “rescuing people, snatching them from prison at the last moment, depriving that hideous guillotine of another victim.”
Charlot leaned across the table nodding and they started to talk about the escapes which the Lebruns had mentioned. They talked with great animation; they seemed to have created a bond between them from which David and I were excluded.
“What I would have done in those circumstances,” Jonathan was saying; and he went on to outline some adventurous stratagem. They looked boyish in their enthusiasm.
Jonathan explained in detail how my mother had been taken by the mob to the mairie, where she was kept while the people screamed outside for her to be brought out that they might hang her on the lanterne.
“And my father, disguised as a coachman, was in a carriage at the back of the mairie. He bribed the mayor to let her out and he drove the carriage right through the mob in the square. At any moment something could have gone wrong.”
“He never believed anything could go wrong,” I said.
There was silence at the table. They were all lost in admiration for Dickon. Even Charlot seemed to think he was rather splendid in that moment.
Then he said: “But he might have brought others out at the same time.”
“How could he?” I demanded. “It was difficult and dangerous enough to get my mother out.”
“People are being brought out. There are brave men and women who are giving their lives to this. Mon Dieu, how I wish I were there!”
“I too,” echoed Louis Charles.
And so they talked.
I continued to be concerned with my own problem. Jonathan or David? This time next year, I thought, I shall be eighteen. I shall have decided by then.
If only I did not like them both so much. Perhaps it was after all because they were twins—in a way like utterly opposite sides of one person.
I thought frivolously that when one was attracted by twins one should be allowed to marry them both.
When I was with David I thought a good deal about Jonathan. But when I was with Jonathan I must remember David.
The day after that conversation I went riding and I expected that Jonathan would come after me as he usually did. He knew what time I left.
I rode rather slowly to give him time to catch up, but he did not appear. I made my way to the top of a small incline where I could get a good view. There was no sign of him.
I finished my ride and went back considerably piqued. As I entered the house I heard voices in one of the small rooms which led from the hall and I peeped in.
Jonathan was there with Charlot and Louis Charles. They were deep in conversation.
I said: “Hello. I’ve been riding.”
They hardly seemed aware of me… even Jonathan.
I came away distinctly annoyed and went to my room.
That night at dinner the conversation took the usual trend: the events in France.
“There are other places in the world,” David reminded them.
“There are ancient Rome and ancient Greece,” said Jonathan rather contemptuously. “You’re so steeped in past history, brother, that you are losing sight of the history which is being made all around you.”
“I assure you,” retorted David, “that I am fully aware of the significance of what is happening in France at this time.”
“Well, isn’t that more important than Julius Caesar or Marco Polo?”
“You cannot see history clearly while it is happening,” said David slowly. “It is like looking at an oil painting. You have to stand back… some years. That particular painting isn’t finished yet.”
“You and your metaphors and similes! You’re only half alive. Let’s tell him, shall we, eh, Charlot, Louis Charles? Shall we tell him what we propose to do?”
Charlot nodded gravely.
“We are going to France,” said Jonathan. “We are going to bring out Aunt Sophie… among others…”
“You can’t!” I cried. “For one thing, Dickon would never allow it.”
“Do you know, little
“It must be exciting,” he said, “rescuing people, snatching them from prison at the last moment, depriving that hideous guillotine of another victim.”
Charlot leaned across the table nodding and they started to talk about the escapes which the Lebruns had mentioned. They talked with great animation; they seemed to have created a bond between them from which David and I were excluded.
“What I would have done in those circumstances,” Jonathan was saying; and he went on to outline some adventurous stratagem. They looked boyish in their enthusiasm.
Jonathan explained in detail how my mother had been taken by the mob to the mairie, where she was kept while the people screamed outside for her to be brought out that they might hang her on the lanterne.
“And my father, disguised as a coachman, was in a carriage at the back of the mairie. He bribed the mayor to let her out and he drove the carriage right through the mob in the square. At any moment something could have gone wrong.”
“He never believed anything could go wrong,” I said.
There was silence at the table. They were all lost in admiration for Dickon. Even Charlot seemed to think he was rather splendid in that moment.
Then he said: “But he might have brought others out at the same time.”
“How could he?” I demanded. “It was difficult and dangerous enough to get my mother out.”
“People are being brought out. There are brave men and women who are giving their lives to this. Mon Dieu, how I wish I were there!”
“I too,” echoed Louis Charles.
And so they talked.
I continued to be concerned with my own problem. Jonathan or David? This time next year, I thought, I shall be eighteen. I shall have decided by then.
If only I did not like them both so much. Perhaps it was after all because they were twins—in a way like utterly opposite sides of one person.
I thought frivolously that when one was attracted by twins one should be allowed to marry them both.
When I was with David I thought a good deal about Jonathan. But when I was with Jonathan I must remember David.
The day after that conversation I went riding and I expected that Jonathan would come after me as he usually did. He knew what time I left.
I rode rather slowly to give him time to catch up, but he did not appear. I made my way to the top of a small incline where I could get a good view. There was no sign of him.
I finished my ride and went back considerably piqued. As I entered the house I heard voices in one of the small rooms which led from the hall and I peeped in.
Jonathan was there with Charlot and Louis Charles. They were deep in conversation.
I said: “Hello. I’ve been riding.”
They hardly seemed aware of me… even Jonathan.
I came away distinctly annoyed and went to my room.
That night at dinner the conversation took the usual trend: the events in France.
“There are other places in the world,” David reminded them.
“There are ancient Rome and ancient Greece,” said Jonathan rather contemptuously. “You’re so steeped in past history, brother, that you are losing sight of the history which is being made all around you.”
“I assure you,” retorted David, “that I am fully aware of the significance of what is happening in France at this time.”
“Well, isn’t that more important than Julius Caesar or Marco Polo?”
“You cannot see history clearly while it is happening,” said David slowly. “It is like looking at an oil painting. You have to stand back… some years. That particular painting isn’t finished yet.”
“You and your metaphors and similes! You’re only half alive. Let’s tell him, shall we, eh, Charlot, Louis Charles? Shall we tell him what we propose to do?”
Charlot nodded gravely.
“We are going to France,” said Jonathan. “We are going to bring out Aunt Sophie… among others…”
“You can’t!” I cried. “For one thing, Dickon would never allow it.”
“Do you know, little
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