The Flight of Swallows Read Online Free PDF

at the tadpoles. They’re going mad in the water wagging their dear little black tails. Come and see. What a shame the others aren’t here. You know how John loves tadpoles.’
    The four older boys were having lessons with Miss Price who had released Charlotte and Robert, saying that Robert was too young for algebra and Charlotte too old. She had, of course, asked permission from the children’s father and had found him surprisingly acquiescent, quite amiable in fact which was not often the case. They had all, meaning the servants and the children, noticed that the head of the house had been in an unusually good mood these last few weeks, Charlie more so than the others, for though they had all been beaten several times for minor misdemeanours, it had not been on their bare buttocks. She and her brothers had been particularly careful not to anger their father, as best they could, since many times in the past they had been unaware that they were sinning. He had been out with the hunt until the season ended and away from home visiting friends, house parties, Kizzie explained, though they were not awfully sure what that meant. Sometimes he had people to stay at the weekends, most of them, including the lovely lady whose name was Elizabeth Parker, Kizzie told them, spending a ‘Friday to Monday’. Kizzie seemed to find out a lot about Father’s guests and kept Charlotte, James and Robert, at least, entertained with her descriptions of the activities, charades and fancy dress affairs and such, though Henry, William and John considered themselves too old to listen to such gossip!
    She was startled when a voice that was not Robert’s interrupted her reverie.
    ‘Miss Drummond, it seems it is my turn to trespass. I do beg your pardon and please forgive the little beggar who is trying to eat your skirt. I’m trying to discipline him without the others exciting him but it seems . . . Taddy . . . Taddy, come here at once, sir. Oh, damn it . . . will you . . . I’m sorry . . .’
    The puppy, a mixture of black Labrador and another unknown breed, was leaping all over Charlotte, licking her face and nipping at her hands, yipping with delight, and at his onslaught Charlotte fell in a most unladylike way over the back of the log and landed in a clump of daffodils flat on her back with her skirts up, showing a great deal of black stocking and frilly white petticoat. Her laughter rang out, bringing Robert hurrying from the stream to join in the fun and for several minutes, until Brooke swept the pup into his arms, there was joyful chaos.
    Brooke Armstrong was curiously silent though his lips twitched in what wanted to be a smile. The reason was Charlotte herself. He was enchanted, he could think of no other word. She enchanted him with her unaffected laughter, her unconcern with the amount of leg and petticoat she had revealed, her childlike delight with the small animal which was struggling to get back to her. Her hair, which he realised had a life and direction of its own, was once again tumbling about her neck and down her back, the April sunshine painting it with the glow of autumn leaves. The boy, her brother he supposed, was fiddling with the puppy in Brooke’s arms which now turned his attention to the boy and he happily handed the animal over to him. The boy put him down and began to run and in the way of small animals the pup ran after him and with a sigh of relief Brooke sat down next to Charlotte on the fallen log.
    ‘I do apologise for the bad manners, mine and the pup’s. Give me a month and I’ll have him obedient.’
    ‘Oh, no, don’t break his spirit, please. I have seen what—’ She stopped speaking abruptly.
    Wisely Brooke did not question her on what she had been about to say. He had seen the cruel twist to Arthur Drummond’s mouth and the sudden coldness surge in his eyes and he had heard rumours concerning his strictness – to say the least – with his family. He had learned that the girl