Arcadia Falls Read Online Free PDF

she uncoils herself from the window seat I see that all of Ivy St. Clare has been pared down to the essentials. She can’t be more than 4’11” and she’s as slim as a pixie—an impression enhanced by fawn-colored capris and a dark green tunic with a wide portrait collar that shows off her sharp collarbones and sunken chest. A round silver brooch, engraved with a design of two women encircled by a ring of ivy, is pinned to her collar. Her hair is cut in the same helmet bob I remember from photographs of her in the forties, but it’s turned from chestnut brown to ash white.
    “I see you found us all right,” she says, cocking her head to one side. “Are you all sorted out in Fleur-de-Lis?”
    “My daughter’s unpacking. I thought I’d come over and let you know we’d gotten here.”
    “I’m glad you did. I was just about to ring for tea. Please, have a seat.”
    She perches on the edge of the desk, pushes an intercom button on a sleek office phone, and asks someone named Dymphna to bring the tea.
    “I hope the cottage isn’t too run-down. I sent some students over to clean it out….” She pauses, no doubt seeing the look of surprise on my face. “Oh no, don’t tell me, it hasn’t been cleaned?”
    “It really doesn’t matter—”
    “Of course it matters! We pride ourselves on our self-sufficiency here at the Arcadia School. The students all have jobs and the two I sent to Fleur-de-Lis were let off kitchen duty last week because they were supposed to have the cottage ready for you. I’ll have to speak to them when we’re done…. Ah, there’s Dymphna now.” Ivy St. Clare slips down from her desk, responding to some signal from outside the door that Ihave failed to hear. She’s right, though. A stout woman holding a heavily laden tray is standing in the doorway. The dean tries to take the tray from her, but the woman ignores her efforts, slowly trundles across the carpet, and sets it down on the desk.
    “Dymphna, who did I send to clean Fleur-de-Lis?”
    “Chloe Dawson and Isabel Cheney,” she answers as she pours out the tea. “But I’m not surprised if they didn’t do a thorough job of it. They’re both caught up in getting ready for the First Night festival.”
    Ivy St. Clare lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. “I thought they’d compete to see who could do the most cleaning, but I guess the festival was more important to them.” She turns to me. “We always start the year off with a fall festival which we call First Night. Chloe and Isabel, as the two seniors with the highest class rankings, have the lead roles in it. Since they were here early I thought they could also do your cottage. I’ll have to have a word with them.”
    “It’s really all right,” I say for the second time, wishing I’d managed to lie about the state of the cottage. I hate to think that the two girls will think I complained about them—especially Isabel Cheney, who was so helpful to me. “I just met Isabel Cheney,” I add. “She was nice enough to show me the way here. She struck me as a very responsible and intelligent girl.”
    “An aggressive and ambitious girl,” Dean St. Clare says with a little shudder. “She’s probably already planning to ask you for a college recommendation. I imagine she thinks she’s
above
having to do her cleaning chores, but it’s part of our philosophy here that each student takes part in the day-to-day running of the school. Dymphna, do you know where the girls are now?”
    “They’re upstairs in the Reading Room. Miss Drake is making the last adjustments to their costumes. Do you want me to send them down here?”
    The dean tilts her head for a moment, considering. She looks, I think, like a robin cocking its head to the ground to listen for worms beneath the earth. “No,” she says. “I’ll go up so I can have a look at the girls’ costumes. Thank you, Dymphna. That will be all.
    “Well, then,” Ivy St. Clare says after Dymphna has left, “I imagine