Lord of Ice Read Online Free PDF Page A

fashionable Londoners would even be there. Maybe they would think she was even good enough for Drury Lane! she thought. Well, almost.
    Soap in hand, she scrubbed her face, throat, and hands, scouring the dirt out from underneath her nails, dabbing the moist washcloth over her long, dark, wavy hair to get the soot out of it. The girls watched her in dull-eyed interest as they waited for Mrs. Warren, the cook, to bring up their tea and one slice of stale bread each.
    Amy sidled up to her with a petulant look. “I want to come with you!”
    “Absolutely not.”
    “Why?”
    “They don’t let children in.”
    “But I want to hear you sing in the burletta. I want to see you dance in the ballet!”
    “Too bad,” Miranda replied briskly as she plopped down onto the nearest cot and took off her sorry black boots and peeled off her smelly black worsted stockings. She put the washbasin on the floor and stepped into it with a giant sigh of pleasure; then she sank down on the edge of the bed again, savoring the luxury of letting her feet soak for a few minutes. She would be on them for the next six or seven hours, after all, mostly dancing.
    “You’re so lucky. It’s not fair. I want to be an actress, too! You’re going to run away with Mr. Chipping’s acting troupe, and I shall die!”
    “I wouldn’t do that to you, Amy.”
    “Really?” The child sat down beside her and put her arm around her, leaning on her shoulder like the most devoted little sister, though her eyes sparkled with mischief.
    Miranda cast her a wry smile. “If I ran off, how would my Uncle Jason know where to find me when he comes to fetch me?” If he ever comes, she thought, but did not utter the dismal words aloud.
    “ Please can I put on some of your rouge?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “Amy, you’re twelve.”
    “Rouge is wicked,” Sally announced, pushing herself up to a seated position from where she had sprawled on her cot.
    Amy grinned at her. “Of course it is. That’s why Miranda likes it. Miranda, when you’re a rich and famous London actress, will you come and fetch me out of Yardley?”
    Her long, dark hair slipped forward over Miranda’s shoulders as she bent down to wash her soaking feet. “If you promise not to whine every day.”
    “I won’t have anything to whine about!” Amy hopped up to sit on the heavy table by the wall, swinging her crossed heels prettily. “Just parties and balls and fine frocks and a hundred boys to swear they love me.”
    Miranda looked at her dubiously and lifted her feet out of the basin. She was hurriedly drying her feet and legs when all of a sudden, a bloodcurdling scream shot up through the floor. All the girls froze and looked around at one other, wide-eyed.
    Amy jumped down off the table and began hopping about in panic. “Oh, no! Oh, no!”
    Miranda whirled to her. “What have you done now?”
    “Nothing! It wasn’t me!”
    “Amy!”
    “FitzHu berrrrt! ” Brocklehurst’s roar zoomed up the stairs, followed in the next instant by marching footsteps that the girls knew all too well and feared like the advance of a Roman legion.
    Miranda glanced in distress at the closed door of the dormitory, then at the child. Amy’s round face was pale and she was backing away from the door.
    “Amy, what happened?”
    “It was an accident!”
    “Oh, blast, Amy. What did you break now?”
    Amy’s huge blue eyes filled with tears. “Her stupid Wedgwood doggy!”
    Every girl in the room gasped with dread.
    “Oh, no, ” Miranda whispered, her heart sinking.
    Brocklehurst’s tirades tended to be lengthy. This could interfere with her slipping away tonight to reach the Pavilion Theatre in time. If she didn’t leave in fifteen minutes, she would miss the curtain call. Mr. Chipping had given her the starring role as the heroine in tonight’s burletta, The Venetian Outlaw . If she failed him, he might never give her such a large part again. He already thought all actresses were irresponsible.