Darkwater Read Online Free PDF

Amelia was flying down the stairs, her skirts billowing. ‘Here’s the money for the ribbon. Papa gave it to me. Don’t forget, it’s to be striped. And if you can’t get the exact shade, get the nearest you can.’ Amelia’s cheeks were as pink as the ribbon she hoped Fanny would bring back from London. She was a silly little affectionate thing, and one didn’t want to disappoint her…Reluctantly Fanny put out her hand for the money. Hannah could bring back the ribbon. Uncle Edgar was smiling indulgently. Aunt Louisa said, ‘Really, Amelia! You and your fal-lals. I hope you’re not neglecting the serious reading Miss Ferguson recommended every day. Then come, Fanny. Trumble can’t wait forever.’
    Darkwater…All the way down the curving drive, Fanny’s head was thrust out of the carriage to look back. The sun was out from behind the clouds, and the house looked the way she loved it most, warmly red, the windows shining, smoke curling from the twisted chimneys. It was like a jewel lying against its backdrop of gentle green hillside. The flaring red of the rhododendrons marked the path to the lake. The lawns were velvet. The peacock and the peahen strutted near the rose garden. Rooks cawed in the swaying elms.
    ‘Put your head in, Miss Fanny, do.’
    Fanny fumbled for her handkerchief. She couldn’t let Hannah see the tears on her cheeks. It was Hannah, long ago, who had told the children, and the avidly interested Lady Arabella the legend of the bird in the chimney. She had heard it from the previous housekeeper who had been in employment at Darkwater for forty years. And before that it had come from another superstitious and nervous servant.
    It was only a legend. No one really believed it, not even Lady Arabella, although it pleased her to make startling announcements.
    Indeed, there must often have been a bird caught in one of those many chimneys, a swift, perhaps, or a starling. But not that white forlorn sinister one that was a portent.
    Yet Fanny had sometimes likened herself to the unfortunate creature. She too, had been caught in her poverty, in her orphanhood, in her inability to live a free untrammelled life because an unprotected young woman had little place in the world.
    That was why she had determined to escape before she, like the bird, suffocated in the claustrophobic atmosphere.
    But today she loved Darkwater. If only the morning had been dark and gloomy, the clouds pressing down, the wind whining. But the sun shone and she had a sense of identification with the great faded rose-red house lying against the hillside. It was as if she had known it, not only for the seventeen years of her residence there, but for centuries. She was going to long for it bitterly, as if she had left part of her heart behind.
    A branch whipped her face. She drew back, a reason now for her tears.
    ‘There, I told you,’ said Hannah. ‘Hanging out there like a great overgrown child. You’re a fine one to be bringing little children safe home.’
    Fanny dabbed at her reddened cheek.
    ‘I’m sorry, Hannah. I do foolish things.’
    ‘You don’t need to tell me that, Miss Fanny.’ Hannah had been at Darkwater for fifty years. She came from the village where she, and her seven brothers and sisters had slept like peas in a pod in the bedroom of the two-roomed cottage. Her father had been a labourer on the estate and her mother, in between being brought to bed with a new baby, had helped in the kitchen of the great house. Later, there had only been two brothers and a sister left. The rest, one by one, had withered away with a fever. Only four in the big bed had seemed lonely. Hannah had been glad at the age of twelve to begin work in the great house. Now she was sixty-two and had earned the privilege to speak her mind. ‘I can see I’ll have my hands full with the three of you.’
    ‘No, you won’t, Hannah. I’m going to be perfectly sensible.’
    Hannah reached out a neatly gloved hand to pat Fanny’s. Being