Anna Jacobs Read Online Free PDF

gaped at them, then stood back to let them in.
    “How is he, Simley?” Matthew asked even before he had stepped across the threshold.
    “Still alive, sir. The doctor’s with him.”
    As Matthew carried her inside, Deborah gazed round the dark hallway, which rose for two stories, with railed landings along each side above them. The only light came from one candelabrum on a side table and a single flickering candle in a tin holder carried by the grey-haired servant. Even in the dimness she could see that the wooden floor was scuffed and in sore need of a polish, while the square of carpet in the centre was badly frayed. The hall itself was, however, of good proportions and the staircase was cut neatly at an angle across the back wall, with the lower three steps turned forward as if to invite you to climb up them.
    A tall clock standing watch near the foot of the stairs chimed softly.
     “Look at that! Two o’ the clock,” Simley announced gloomily, “and I ain’t been to bed yet! Be good for nothin’ tomorrow, I won’t.”
    Matthew ignored him and strode forward, carrying Deborah into a dark room on the right, where no candles were lit, even though there was light coming from underneath a nearby door. He set her down beside a sofa, keeping hold of her until she had sunk down on it with a sigh of relief. She missed the warmth of his body and couldn’t help shivering slightly.
    “Are you all right?” he asked.
    “Yes. Just—very stiff and a little chilled.”
    “I must go up and see Ralph, let him know we’ve arrived.”
    “Yes. Yes, of course.”
    “I’ll send for a dish of tea—unless you’d prefer a glass of wine?”
    “Tea would be very welcome, thank you.”
    “Simley!” he shouted. “Fetch some tea. Our visitor is tired.”
    The man scowled at her. “There’s no one in the kitchen and the fire there’s damped down.”
    “Then build it up again. And if you can’t see to things, wake your wife, man! I need to check on Mr Jannvier.”
    Muttering something under his breath, the man went out without another look in Deborah’s direction.
    Matthew came back holding a lighted candle and used it to set light to the kindling set neatly in the fireplace before lighting another candle in a tarnished silver holder on the mantelpiece. “You’ll be all right for a few moments?”
    “Yes, of course I will. And I can see to the fire now.”
    He nodded and went out again without a word. She heard his footsteps running lightly up the stairs, a door opened somewhere above them and closed with a sharp clap of sound, then there was silence. Although she wasn’t of a fanciful nature, she couldn’t help looking round nervously, for the room seemed full of threatening shadows and heavy pieces of old-fashioned furniture behind which anything—or anyone—might be concealed.
    She got up to tend the fire, still moving slowly and stiffly, building it up with bigger pieces of wood and then holding her hands out to the flames. It wasn’t a cold night, but she was grateful for the warmth and for the brightness of the fire to dispel some of the shadows.
    The manservant returned with a candle. “Oh. You’ve lit the fire. ’Twas set for morning, that was.”
    “Mr Pascoe did it.”
    He stared at her as if trying to work out who she was. “Come far?”
    She didn’t like his surly expression and saw no need to explain herself to him. “Far enough.”
    He gestured towards the fire. “It’ll burn all right now, so I’ll leave you to it.”
    “And the cup of tea?” she reminded him.
    “Mrs Simley is in bed and no one but me to tend to things. I usually work outdoors, not in the kitchen.”
    She wondered if he would have been as rude had Matthew Pascoe stayed with them. “Then I’ll come and make it myself. No doubt Mr Pascoe would also be grateful for a warm drink.”
    He scowled at her. “No need. I’ll see to it. But it won’t be set out fancy. We’re short-staffed here. And Mr Pascoe don’t curdle his