Ravencliffe (Blythewood series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

met last year, isn’t it? That Raven fellow. You think that if he’s good, then
all
the fairies—”
    “He’s not a fairy!” I sulked, sorry now that I’d ever told Agnes about him. “The Darklings are different. They bridge the gap between humans and fairies. It’s all explained in the book my mother was looking for—
A Darkness of Angels.
”
    “You mean the book that poor Mr. Farnsworth died trying to save?”
    I was immediately sorry that I’d brought it up. Last winter I’d written to Mr. Herbert Farnsworth, the librarian of Hawthorn, Blythewood’s brother school in Scotland, asking about the ancient book
A Darkness of Angels.
Raven had told me that it would prove the Darklings’ innocence, and that it also contained the secret to destroying the
tenebrae
, the embodiment of pure evil. Mr. Farnsworth had written back to tell me he was sailing to America with the book. He embarked on the same boat that my grandmother and Agnes—and Helen’s parents—were taking back from England: the ill-fated
Titanic
.
    There’d been another passenger on the voyage—Judicus van Drood. Agnes and Mr. Farnsworth had seen him on the deck when the ship ran into the fatal iceberg, and Mr. Farnsworth had used the book to keep van Drood on the sinking ship. As much as Agnes grieved for Mr. Farnsworth, we’d both hoped that van Drood had perished, too.
    Now, I wasn’t so sure. I told Agnes about the changeling morphing into the likeness of van Drood and showed her the picture of Ruth and the shadow man. I thought she’d be horrified, but instead a glimmer of hope sparked in her eyes.
    “If van Drood survived, perhaps Mr. Farnsworth did, too!”
    “Maybe he did,” I said, thinking it was rather unlikely. If he had survived, why hadn’t he contacted us?
    “I’ll check again with the Seamen’s Friend Society,” she said enthusiastically, and then added, “I’m sorry I called your friend Raven a fairy. I’m sure if Mr. Farnsworth risked his life for that book, there must be something valuable in it, and real proof that the Darklings aren’t evil. Perhaps you could ask Raven to help look for him.”
    “I would, but I haven’t heard from him since the end of school. We had a . . . disagreement. I’m afraid I may have driven him away for good.”
    Agnes sighed. “Perhaps that would be for the best.” Seeing my stricken look, she gestured to the large box she’d laid on the bed. “Why don’t you open the box? There seems to be a corsage of violets on top.”
    I was up and across the room as if my wings had sprung loose. So many people grew violets in Rhinebeck that it was known as the violet capitol of the world. There was no reason to assume they came from Violet House, where Miss Sharp’s aunts lived. And certainly no reason to think they came from Raven, who lived there under the disguise of Raymond Corbin, clockmaker’s apprentice. But still . . .
    I untied the bouquet and lifted the flowers to my nose, inhaling their fragrance. Memories of a wooded grove, a night I’d spent in Raven’s tree house hidden in the highest boughs, came flooding back to me, along with a touch of wings that had calmed me, a mouth that had tasted of violets . . . no, the kiss had come later. But it was all mixed up now with the scent of violets. Could Raven have sent them?
    “Are you going to open the box?” Agnes asked with amusement. “I think there’s more than flowers in a box that big.”
    The box sprang open as if something alive had been waiting to get out . . . something with feathers.
    I stepped back, catching my breath, as delicate, sheer wings unfolded from the box.
    “Costume wings,” Agnes said, lifting them from the box. “And look—there’s a dress to go with them.”
    I’d never heard practical Agnes utter the word
dress
with such longing in her voice. Her freckled hands gingerly lifted the gown out of its nest of lavender tissue paper. It seemed to catch a breeze as it rose, billowing into