Deadly Desires at Honeychurch Hall Read Online Free PDF

sissy for taking a toy mouse to school.”
    â€œI bet some of them secretly have toys but aren’t brave enough to admit it,” I said, trying to jolly him along.
    Harry slipped his hand into mine. “You promised I would never go back,” he said again.
    â€œTold you that was a mistake,” Mum whispered into my ear.
    â€œWhat about changing schools?” I suggested, knowing the moment I said it that it was the wrong thing.
    Harry brightened. “I could go to my friend Max’s school. I could come home every day!”
    â€œWell … that’s up to your parents,” I said hastily.
    â€œWill you ask Mummy? Please, Kat, please !”
    We entered the cobbled courtyard at the rear of the Hall and headed for the entrance to the servants’ quarters.
    â€œGoodness, someone’s been busy with a broom around here,” said Mum.
    Mum was right. The last time I’d been this way the cobbled courtyard had been cluttered with an assortment of old farmyard appliances, pieces of wood, and sheets of corrugated iron and mounds of rubbish. Instead, everything had been piled into a large builder’s skip that stood in the corner.
    Harry started to drag his feet. “Can’t I come and stay with you?” he said. “Father is going to be so angry.”
    â€œNot angry, just worried,” I said. “Come on, shall we go and see Mrs. Cropper first? Maybe she’ll make you some hot chocolate. You must be starving.”
    â€œAlright,” whispered Harry and clung to my hand even tighter.
    We stepped through the back door and Mum and I stopped in surprise.
    â€œIt looks like the broom has been in here, too!” I said.
    The long flagstone corridor that led to the kitchen quarters had always been thick with grime and cobwebs. Not anymore. Even the yellowing painted walls looked as if they had been wiped down.
    â€œWhat’s that pong?” Harry asked.
    It was true. There was an eye-watering smell of disinfectant.
    â€œIf I had to choose between eau de mire and eau de carbolic I’m afraid I’d rather have the latter,” said Mum.
    â€œLook!” Harry exclaimed. “All the doors to the dungeons are open! The prisoners must have escaped!”
    The corridor was lined with doorways, each serving a purpose-specific larder for meat, dairy, fish, et al. There was also a flower room, stillroom, and a lamp room. What had been a dull passageway now shone with cheery brightness.
    We peeped in the first doorway—the dry larder. The rectangular room had one window at the far end that was framed by ill-kempt shrubs outside. Although it was still gloomy, everywhere—floor, walls, even the ceiling—looked as if it had been thoroughly scrubbed down. The stoneware storage jars and vats were lined neatly on a central trestle table. The massive dresser that hugged one wall stood equally spotless.
    â€œMrs. Cropper must have found a new housekeeper after all,” Mum remarked. “I wonder if she’s from the village?”
    Generations of the same families had always worked at Honeychurch Hall “below stairs”—if that term could still be applied in this modern age. Following Vera’s so-called unfortunate “accident,” Mrs. Cropper had grumbled that finding someone with the right “training” had been impossible.
    There had been a series of daily help from Little Dipperton—Patty Gully having been just one—but none had lasted more than two or three weeks.
    Harry ran in and out of the open doorways and shouted, “This is wicked !”
    â€œI recognize that voice!” Mrs. Cropper stood at the end of the corridor. “Is that Master Harry?”
    She was dressed in her usual uniform of a pink-striped pinafore over a plain white linen short-sleeved dress and wore her gray hair tucked under a white mobcap.
    â€œThe school called this morning and told us you ran away again,” said