The Phoenix Of Love. Susan Schonberg

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ child, and she knew that her father didn’t have much money. Ever since she could remember, Maddie had emphasized to Olivia the importance of practicing economies. But no matter what lengths Maddie and she went to in order to cut expenses from their daily budget, it never seemed to be enough.

      Olivia sat down on her bed, her chin in her hand. She didn’t know what she could do to help her father pay the bills, but she was determined to try. Perhaps she and Maddie could expand the kitchen garden out back? She’d have to think about it.

      

      Wentworth had long ago done away with the age-old custom of children eating their meals upstairs. It wasn’t really out of any noble sentiment that he ignored that form of etiquette—just the opposite, in fact. If the truth be known, Wentworth simply got lonely.

      At supper Wentworth seemed inclined to be more melancholy than at any other time of the day. Perhaps it was the candlelight. Perhaps it was the empty expanse of table and the encroaching shadows. Who knew? In any case, before Margaret’s death, he liked to have his children with him at supper to keep him company. After his first daughter died, he grew almost fanatical about having Olivia there.

      Wentworth’s melancholy tonight was so palpable that Olivia could barely eat. Sometimes she chattered brightly in order to shake her father from his blue studies, but tonight Olivia’s attempts had met with dismal failure. Her father spoke in monosyllables throughout the indifferently cooked meal, speaking only when spoken to, and often not even then. It didn’t take much, thought Olivia, to see that he was preoccupied with his own thoughts.

      After a time, Olivia could stand the oppressive atmosphere no longer. Without realizing what had put her father into such a depressed mood, she asked in an unusually loud voice, “Who was that man today, Papa?”

      Wentworth’s head snapped up from where he had been studiously examining a chip on his plate. The eyes of his innocent young daughter speared him in his seat like a pin in a butterfly, and for a second all he felt was agony. If Olivia had slapped him in the face and called him a devil, he could not imagine how she could have struck him with a deeper sense of guilt.

      Gazing at her in a kind of shock, Wentworth vainly attempted not to think about Olivia’s resemblance to his now long-dead wife. Silently he cursed the impulse that possessed him in a moment of madness to name his second child after his wife. His beloved’s creamy white skin, lush dark hair, firm chin and high cheekbones were replicated on the smaller version before him. Worst of all, though, were Olivia’s eyes. His dead wife’s eyes stared back at him from across the table, and tonight, in his own mind, they were full of accusation.

      Tiny wrinkles formed on Olivia’s brow as she realized that something was dreadfully wrong with her father. He looked angry, upset and terrified. Worse, she thought, her father looked possessed.

      Trying desperately to bring him back to the here and now, Olivia asked her question again, enunciating each word slowly and carefully.

      “Papa. Who was that man?”

      Wentworth, dropping his eyes before the interrogative stare of his daughter, attempted to take a bite of the boiled beef on his plate. But the dry meat stuck in his throat, choking him. Recovering quickly from his coughing fit, he got up from the table and threw his napkin onto his plate. The next second, he strode from the room without saying a word.

      The long shadows, with their ominous shapes creeping across the room, were the only response to Olivia’s unanswered question.

      

      A few hours after Olivia had finally drifted off to sleep, she was gently awakened by Maddie. The woman’s voice was soothing and calm. Although indistinct at first, the sound finally became words in Olivia’s consciousness.

      “Here now, my love,” cooed the nurse. “I know you’re tired, poor wee thing, but we’ve got to get you ready for a trip.”

      Olivia sat up in her bed slowly, stretching and rubbing her eyes. She blinked sleepily, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. After a moment, she was able to focus her eyes on her nanny.

      “A trip?” she asked uncomprehendingly.

      Maddie turned away from Olivia and returned the covers the little girl had tossed about in her sleep to the end of the bed. The old woman had her doubts about this strange trip in the middle of the night, but she kept them to herself.

      “Indeed, yes,” she replied in as cheerful a manner as she could manage. “You and your father are going to Norwood Park.”

      Olivia stared blankly at her nurse, the words not making any sense to her. Where was Norwood Park? What was it? Finally comprehension dawned.

      Olivia’s eyes went round with fear. She had seen the park, and not so very long ago. Occasionally Olivia was able to slip away from Gateland Manor unattended, and on one of her more recent forays, she had glimpsed the house through the woods. The thought of going to that spooky old mansion, with all of its encroaching weeds and darkened, windows, did nothing to assuage her fear.

      “Now, now, my poppet,” soothed Maddie, gently patting her charge’s hand. “’Tis nothing to be worried about, I’m sure. You mustn’t believe all those Banbury tales about the place being haunted, for I’m sure it simply isn’t true.”

      In point of fact, Olivia was so isolated at Gateland Manor that she had never heard this particular rumor about the house, but she didn’t think that now was the appropriate time to bring up that fact. Maddie would just be upset if she found out Olivia had never heard the story before now.

      Maddie made a dismissive gesture as she continued. “Besides, the master is going with you, and you know he would never put you in harm’s way.”

      Olivia digested this bit of wisdom from her nurse and concluded that what she said was true. Her papa would never let anything happen to her.

      “And look, Olivia. He brought you this.”

      Maddie’s voice broke into the girl’s reverie, and she looked up to see her nanny holding the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. The material was pale blue and trimmed with navy ribbons. Around the neck and cuffs was delicately scalloped lace, and it felt rich to the touch of Olivia’s tiny fingers. When she put it on, the dress reached to the middle of her calves. Maddie had given her a pair of white stockings to complete the ensemble, and to Olivia, the effect was enchanting.

      “Oh, Nanny!” cried Olivia, spinning around in circles in front of the peer glass. “Is it really just for me?”

      Maddie laughed softly, her eyes gleaming with pride. “Yes, my dear,” she answered fondly, “it really is for you.”

      When Olivia came down the main staircase thirty minutes later, Wentworth’s breath caught in his throat. Never had he seen such a perfect-looking angel! The dress, with its contrasting shades of blue, was the perfect setting to show off his daughter’s unusual eyes and creamy skin. Her dark heavy hair, held back from her face with a navy ribbon bought specifically to match the dress, swayed gently against her back as she descended the staircase.

      “You look just like your mother, child,” he whispered as she approached him.

      And then it hit him. The vision struck so hard, it was just like a physical blow. Wentworth staggered back, his hands out before him in a plea of supplication and remorse. “No, my dear,” he pleaded as the ephemeral form of his former wife floated down to him, СКАЧАТЬ