Betrayal Read Online Free PDF

prayers… Benedic, Domine, nos et dona tua…. In my first term at Wyldcliffe Miss Scratton had been the only one of the mistresses I had felt I could trust. I wasn’t sure why exactly, but her clear mind and scrupulously fair methods seemed to make it impossible for her to be one of those howling, grasping women that we had encountered in the crypt.
    The prayer came to an end. Miss Scratton indicated that we should sit down. There was the scraping of chairs and benches and a quick rush of excitement: “She’s going to tell us something…” “I told you so…” “Some news at last…”
    “Before we begin our meal, I would like to welcome you back to school,” Miss Scratton announced. “These are not easy circumstances in which to begin a new term. Sadly, our High Mistress, Mrs. Hartle, is still missing. The police are doing everything they can, and we have to carry on as normal, despite the uncertainty, despite theloss we feel.” For a fraction of a second she seemed to look straight at Helen, who was sitting silent and stiff beside me. “In Mrs. Hartle’s absence, we must continue to strive for the high standards she always set. The school governors have put certain arrangements in place to ensure that your education will continue uninterrupted. Miss Raglan, our math mistress, has been appointed as Deputy High Mistress, and will lead the school until further notice.”
    There was an intake of breath, a gasp so loud that it sounded like a fist banging on a drum. It seemed that everyone had expected Miss Scratton to be put in charge. I had certainly expected it, and when I saw the faint flush spreading over her thin face, I guessed that she had expected it too. “I am sure,” she went on determinedly, “that we will all give Miss Raglan the support and loyalty that she deserves.” She began to clap and a few people joined in, but the applause didn’t last long.
    Miss Raglan stepped forward. She was tall and gray haired, with a heavy, clumsy body and an angry red complexion.
    “It is an honor, even in these sad circumstances, to be responsible for Wyldcliffe,” she said. “I can assure you that everything will continue as it was under Mrs. Hartle’s inspired leadership. There will be no loss of standards.There will be no change at all.”
    She sat down abruptly in Mrs. Hartle’s tall chair, looking awkward and out of place. Miss Scratton hesitated for a moment and then said, “Please enjoy your dinner now, girls. Afterward, the lights-out bell will ring early, as it is the first day and you must all be tired from traveling.”
    The women who worked in the kitchens brought out large platters of food and placed them on each table and the girls began to serve themselves obediently, their little moment of surprise over. Wyldcliffe students were used to doing as they were told. Everything would be the same; there would be no changes…. Wyldcliffe never changed. Tradition. Order. Discipline. It was the same now as it had been a hundred years ago.
    I tried to eat too, but I wasn’t hungry. Celia Hartle might have gone, but I knew that any of the teachers who were surveying the rows of girls could be one of her Dark Sisters. If Mrs. Hartle was indeed dead, then sooner or later another High Mistress would rise up, eager for revenge. I looked at each one of the mistresses in turn: Miss Raglan; Miss Schofield; Mrs. Richards, who taught biology; Madame Duchesne, the French mistress; Miss Dalrymple; and all the rest. My head buzzed with questions. Had one of them written that note? I wondered.Which of them had been in the crypt on that night last term? I had never liked or trusted Miss Raglan, and now she was in charge of the school. Was she also in charge of the coven? Or was she simply a dry, cold teacher, obsessed with the rules and traditions of this elite academy?
    As I picked at my food, I looked around at the other students. I noticed that Harriet was sitting hunched over her plate, not saying a word to