(Midwinter Manor)Poacher's Fall Read Online Free PDF Page B

he could hardly come out with that in front of Standish.
    “I believe I have made my position clear,” Standish said stiffly. “Now, I must not keep Mr. Luccombe waiting. Good day, Costessey.”
     
     
    “G OOD morning, Sir. And Merry Christmas.”
    Philip blinked up at the dark figure of Standish placing his morning tea upon the bedside cabinet.
    “Thank you, Standish. And to you, too, of course.” Philip was a little surprised to find that he did actually feel something of the joys of the season. It wasn’t as if the hole Robert had left in his heart had healed over, precisely, but there was no denying it didn’t ache nearly as acutely as it used to. “Time, the great physician,” Philip murmured to himself as he set about the business of shaving and dressing.
    Once ready for the day, he gave himself a searching look in the glass. Too pale still, perhaps, but he thought he looked a little less haggard than he had done of late. Strangely buoyed by this observation, he set off down the hall to wish the compliments of the season to his guest.
    Costessey was looking unusually solemn as Philip walked in, but he soon broke into a smile. “Merry Christmas, sir,” he said cheerfully.
    “Thank you,” Philip smiled. “And the compliments of the season to you, too. Oh, you’re drinking tea?”
    “Just finished, sir.” Danny moved to place his cup and saucer upon the bedside cabinet, and Philip hastened to take it from him.
    “Don’t want you upsetting those ribs,” he said by way of explanation of his actions, and also to cover his confusion at the tingle he’d felt as their fingers had brushed. Or had he just imagined it? Yes, that must be it. Philip set down the teacup and turned to find Danny looking at him expectantly. “I, ah, I wondered if you’d like me to read to you? So you don’t get any more of those headaches?”
    “That’d be right kind of you, sir, but won’t you be wanting your breakfast?”
    “Oh, I don’t tend to eat in the mornings. Not much of an appetite, I’m afraid,” Philip said apologetically, although thinking about it, he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, really.
    “You need to get out in the fresh air more, sir. That’ll build you up an appetite right enough.”
    Philip smiled. “I think you’re right. You know, I did go out yesterday, and it was… rather pleasant. I, ah, I went to see your oak tree.”
    Danny grinned. “Hope you gave it a bloody good kick from me!”
    Philip found himself laughing. Lord, how long had it been since he’d laughed? “It was looking sorry enough for itself already, if truth be told. I’d say you gave as good as you got. Now, where did you get to with A Christmas Carol ?”
    “End of the first chapter—or stave, as he calls it. Right surprised I was, to see Dickens writing jokes—‘More of gravy than of grave’!” He chuckled and then turned sober once more. “But he’s a daft bugger, that Ebenezer Scrooge, and no mistake. Rich as bloody Croesus, and never spent a brass farthing, save on the bare necessities. What’s the point of being rich if you’ve no life?”
    Philip felt a smile twist his lips, even as he felt a corresponding twist in his stomach at Danny’s harsh judgment of the miserly recluse. “You know, I’d have laid good money on you never having heard of Croesus!” He colored, realizing what he’d said. “Lord, that was terribly patronizing of me, wasn’t it?”
    But Danny was smiling. “No, sir, don’t you worry. I’d reckon that’d be true about most of the folk around here, but my mam’s always been right keen on those old Greek stories. Reckon it’s my granddad was to blame, for naming her Helen. She had a book of them stories she used to read us when I was little.” His smile grew broader. “Matter of fact, when I was born, she wanted to call me Jason, but my da wouldn’t hear of it. Said that like as not I’d get enough knocks out of life without some fancy-arse name for folk to laugh