Lonesome Road Read Online Free PDF

can come down on Saturday. You can just mention Hilary Cunningham, but I should not stress the connection. And I think you had better call me a retired governess.” Most unexpectedly her eyes twinkled. “And that need not trouble your conscience, because it is perfectly true. I was in the scholastic profession for twenty years.” She got up and extended her hand. “I disliked it extremely. Good-bye, Miss Treherne.”
    Chapter Six
    Miss Treherne was met at Ledlington by her extremely comfortable car. As she was driven through the dark lanes she could not help thinking how secure she must appear. Nobody who saw her drive away with a fur rug over her knees and the steady, responsible Barlow at the wheel, could have believed that under this appearance of safety there was a nightmare of fear, an anguished struggle against suspicion. She looked at Barlow’s solid back, and could hardly believe it herself.
    She was glad that the house would not be full—only Mabel and Ernest, and Caroline, who was so much the child of the house that she did not count. She supposed that Richard might turn up, but she was always pleased to see Richard. She was tired, but she would have a clear hour before dinner. The thought of a hot bath was pleasant, and Louie brushing her hair.
    She came into the hall, and found it full of people. Ernest, Mabel, Richard, Caroline, and Maurice and Cherry who had apparently just arrived and wished to dine but not to sleep, because they had to get back to town.
    “And this makes quite a good road-house, darling.” Cherry’s light, fleeting laugh had no more warmth than the term of endearment which she applied to everyone she met. Her prettiness had something brittle about it—the very fair hair with a sugar-loaf cap crammed on amongst its curls, the very thin hands with their pointed blood-red nails, the painted arch of the lips. As always when she saw them together, Rachel’s eyes went to Caroline, who came forward, kissed her, and said in that slow, soft voice of hers,
    “Are you quite frozen?”
    “No, not quite. How many of you are sleeping here? I suppose Mrs. Evans knows. Cherry, you and Maurice had much better stay. Barlow says the roads will be dangerous in another hour—it’s freezing on the melted snow.”
    Mabel Wadlow turned round with her hand on her son’s arm. She was a small woman, and had once been as fair as Cherry, but her skin had gone lined and sallow, and her hair as colorless as dried grass. It had something of the same off-greenish tint. She had a high, fretful voice.
    “That’s what I’ve been saying,” she complained. “And perhaps Maurice will listen to you. Of course what I say doesn’t matter to anyone.”
    Maurice said, “Oh, come!” and slipped an arm about her waist. He had the same small, regular features as his sister, the same rather near-set eyes; but whereas Cherry had seen to it that her lashes were a good half dozen shades darker than her hair, his were still as sandy as nature had made them. He wore a small straggling moustache, and occasionally threatened the family with a beard. He was at the moment quite determined to throw up a legal career in favor of politics. He hoped to induce his aunt to finance this change of plan, but up to date he had found her very unresponsive. He said,
    “Well, I would like to have a talk with you, Rachel.”
    Rachel Treherne said “Presently” in rather a weary voice.
    “You’ve missed Cosmo,” said Mabel Wadlow. “He was seeing someone in Ledlington. He came out here for tea. Oh, and Ella rang up and wanted to know if she could bring a friend over to lunch—you know, that Mrs. Barber she stays with. They came over in Mrs. Barber’s car. I don’t know how all these people afford cars, I’m sure.” Mrs Wadlow’s tone suggested that this was a personal grievance.
    Rachel felt a faint thankfulness at having missed Mrs. Barber—one of those people who are obsessed with the excellence of their own good works and