Garden of Shadows Read Online Free PDF Page B

keep me interested in the scenery. I awoke to find Malcolm asleep beside me.
In repose, his face took on a younger, almost childish look. With his lids closed, the intensity of his blue eyes was shielded. His cheeks softened and his relaxed jaw lost its firm, tense lines. I thought . . . rather, I hoped, that this was the face he would turn to me in love, the face he would bring to me when he knew I was truly his wife, his mate, his beloved. I stared at him, fascinated with the way his bottom lip puffed out. There were so many little things to learn about each other, I thought. Do two people ever learn all there is about each other? It was something I would have liked to ask my mother.
I turned away and looked at the other passengers. The whole car was asleep. Fatigue had come silently down the aisle and touched each of them with fingers made of smoke and then slipped out under the car door to become one again with the night. The way the train wove around turns and shook from side to side made me feel as if I were inside some giant metallic snake. I felt carried along, almost against my will.
Occasionally, the train passed through a sleepy town or village. The lights in the houses were dim and the streets were empty. Then, in the distance, I saw the Blue Ridge Mountains looming like sleeping giants.
I was lulled into sleep again and awoke at the sound of Malcolm's voice.
"We're coming into the station," he said.
"Really?" I looked out the window but saw only trees and empty fields. Nevertheless, the train slowed down and came to a halt. Malcolm escorted me down the aisle to the doorway and we descended the steps. I stepped out onto the platform and looked at the small station that was merely a tin roof supported by four wooden posts.
The air was cool and fresh-smelling. The sky was clear and splattered with dazzling stars.
So vast and deep was the sky, it made me feel very small and insignificant. It was too big, and felt too close. Its beauty filled me with a strange sense of foreboding. I wished we had arrived in the morning and been greeted by the warm sunlight instead.
I didn't like the deadly quiet and emptiness around us. Somehow, from Malcolm's description of Foxworth Hall and its environs, I had expected lights and activity. There was no one to greet us but Malcolm's driver, Lucas. He looked like a man in his late fifties, with thinning gray hair and a narrow face. He had a slim build and stood at least two full inches shorter than I did. I saw from the way he moved that he had probably fallen asleep waiting for us at the station.
Malcolm introduced me formally. Lucas nodded, put on his cap, and hurried to fetch my trunks as Malcolm led me to the car. I watched Lucas load my trunks and then saw the train pull away slowly, sneaking off into the night like some silvery dark creature trying to make an unobtrusive escape.
"It's so desolate here," I said when Malcolm got in beside me. "How far away are we from
population?"
"We are not far from homes. Charlottesville is an hour away and there's a small village nearby."
"I'm so tired," I said, wanting to lean my head against his shoulder. But he sat so stiffly, I hesitated. "It's not far now."
"Welcome to Foxworth Hall, ma'am," Lucas said when he finally got behind the wheel.
"Thank you, Lucas."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Drive on," Malcolm commanded.
The road wound upward. As we drew closer to the hills, I noted how the trees paraded up and down between them, separating them into distinct sections.
"They act as windbreaks," Malcolm explained, "holding back the heavy drifts of snow."
A short while later I saw the cluster of large homes nestled on a steep hillside. And then, suddenly, Foxworth Hall appeared, jetting up against the night sky, filling it. I couldn't believe the size of the house. It sat high on the hillside, looking down at the other homes like a proud king surveying his minions. And this was to be my home--the castle of which I would be queen. Now I understood better