If the Slipper Fits Read Online Free PDF

paddock. Cross the brudge and up the nip.”
    Brudge? Nip?
    Before she could ask for a translation, he nodded at the dark clouds on the distant horizon. “Best be a-goin’, miss. There be a bank-up fer a good blaw.”
    A storm, she interpreted. He believed a rainstorm was imminent. Yet the sky was a hazy blue overhead and any squall looked to be hours away. Accustomed to invigorating hikes over the moors, Annabelle felt certain she could reach her destination long before the rain struck.
    She made arrangements for him to watch her trunk until someone from the castle could be sent for it. Then she set off in the direction he’d indicated. As she passed a jagged boulder at the edge of the property, Mr. Pengilly called out after her.
    “Come the gloaming, mind the piskies.”
    She turned back. “Pardon?”
    His hands cupped to his mouth, he shouted, “If ’ee spy any wee folk in the wood, take a care not to look lest’n they bewitch ’ee.”
    Pixies! The realization of his meaning tickled her fancy. Surely he had to be teasing. But Mr. Pengilly looked quite serious about the warning.
    Waving a cheery good-bye, Annabelle headed along the trail that meandered over a series of small hillocks. It was a lovely late summer afternoon, warm and mild. Birds twittered in the trees, and the musical trickling of a stream drifted from somewhere up ahead. The sound grew louder until she came upon a stone bridge that spanned a brook.
    Ah, the brudge.
    Annabelle laughed aloud. It seemed she would have to learn the local dialect. Up the nip must refer to the steep path on the other side of the water. There, the trail led up a hill shrouded in trees and shrubbery.
    She tramped over the quaint bridge. Minnows flitted through the water, playing tag among the rocks. Were she not on a mission critical to her future, Annabelle might have stopped to enjoy the peacefulness of the setting.
    But now was no time for dreaming. She wanted to assume her responsibilities as soon as possible, to meet the young duke and settle into her new life. The thought made her smile. How wonderful it would be to care for one small child rather than to teach endless classes in deportment.
    Gripping her skirts, she hiked up the hill. This surely could not be the main road to Castle Kevern. Mr. Pengilly must have sent her on a shortcut, for the path was too narrow to allow passage of a vehicle. Besides, there were no ruts to show that any wheels had ever traveled here.
    Annabelle reached the top of the rise and stopped to catch her breath. Before her lay a panorama of wooded hills and green valleys where tiny white dots of sheep grazed amid a patchwork of farms. The pastoral setting made a sharp contrast to the approaching storm.
    Inky black clouds filled the entire horizon. In the distance, the sea churned with white-capped waves. Annabelle stared in awe. Although she’d read about the ocean in books, nothing could have prepared her for its vast grandeur. Against that dramatic backdrop, the gray stone towers of a medieval fortress brooded atop a cliff.
    Castle Kevern.
    A thrill coursed through her. The magnificent sight brought to mind stories of King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table, the scandals of the Tudor royalty, the ill-fated romance of Tristan and Isolde …
    Lightning cut a jagged line through the dark sky, followed several seconds later by the ominous rumble of thunder. A cold gust tugged at her straw bonnet and knocked it off her head. The ribbons remained tied, however, so she let the hat dangle at the nape of her neck.
    Not even the impending shower could dampen her high spirits.
    As she made her way down the sloping path, Annabelle marveled again at the lucky happenstance that had brought her here. One of the other teachers might have been chosen for the post of governess. Indeed, all of them had been green with envy, Mavis and Prudence in particular. Mrs. Baxter had been miffed, too, though she had not dared to gainsay Lady Milford. But