Silent Revenge Read Online Free PDF Page B

bottle from the table beside him and tipped it until the last of the amber liquid filled his glass. He brought the glass to his mouth and swallowed, then dropped the empty bottle to the floor. It teetered precariously, then toppled.
    He wanted to get drunk. He needed to get drunk. He needed to forget today.
    As if his Indian manservant, Sanjay, could read his mind, the small, dark-skinned man crossed the room. In his ever-so-silent manner, he placed a second bottle on the table, then reached down to pick up the empty.
    “Before this is over, Sanjay, you will wish you had not been so foolish as to insist on coming back with me to England.”
    “That will never be, master. My mother and sisters are alive because of you. I am alive because of you.”
    “But not Sarai.”
    “That is because it was her time to be taken from this life, master. You did all you could. And I am thankful. To serve you in this one lifetime alone is not enough to repay you for what you have done.”
    Sanjay lit another candle branch and placed the brightly glowing fames on the far side of the room. The study shone with the brightness of day, as if the light could ward off the gloom.
    “I fear I will have to find you in my next life, too,” Sanjay said, turning up the one lantern so it burned brighter. “So that I may complete the task I have started. Perhaps I will come back as a donkey. To ease your burden and carry you where you wish to go.”
    Simon rubbed his hand over his eyes and lifted his mouth in a slight grin at his proud young friend’s loyalty. “Somehow I don’t think you would make a very good donkey.” He filled his glass with the liquid from the new bottle and took a deep swallow. His head fell back on the cushion, and he closed his eyes. “I’m afraid serving me will not count as such a noble achievement for you in this life. You did not realize you would be asked to serve such a weak master.”
    “It is only when the evil spirits attack your body that you are weak. In time you will destroy their power.” Sanjay opened the heavy drapes and let the light from the full moon fill the room. “The fever has not come to plague you for a long while, master. Perhaps it has found a more agreeable soul to torment.”
    Sanjay placed another log on the fire, and Simon watched the fames dance while he lifted the glass to his mouth. He doubted if he would ever destroy the evil spirits’ power.
    Even the strong whiskey he’d been drinking for the past two hours did not have its desired effect. He was becoming numb, but he was not that drunk. He had not forgotten.
    He had ridden to Ravenscroft earlier today, most of the way in the rain. He’d entered through the ornate wrought iron gate, no longer shiny and black but tarnished by the weather and lack of care.
    He’d turned down the long lane that led to his family home with an odd mix of dread and anticipation. His chest tightened painfully as he stared in dismay at the overgrown lawn riddled with thistles and weeds and broken tree limbs.
    His childhood home seemed vacant and forlorn. After taking a deep breath, he’d climbed the seven steps to push open the heavy oak door of the home that had been in his family for almost three hundred years. With slow, leaden steps he’d walked through the empty rooms, each stripped bare of what had for generations belonged to his Northcote ancestors.
    The Gainsborough paintings that used to hang above the fireplace and behind the desk in the study were gone, as were the two Reynolds paintings, and a painting by a new artist, Millais. Gone, too, were all but a few items of furniture, each room devoid of everything except one or two of the older, less valuable pieces.
    As he walked from room to room, his footsteps echoed on the bare oak floors. Not that many years ago, beautiful Turkish carpets would have softened his steps. Their rich colors and thick texture had transformed the massive architectural wonder into a warm, luxurious home.
    The marble