The Folly Read Online Free PDF

Rachel was throwing a ball to Mark. Her fair hair gleamed in the sunlight. It had escaped from its pins and was tumbling about her shoulders. Her face was pink and her large blue eyes shone with laughter. He felt a tug at his heart and then gave a rueful smile. He hoped he was not going to start lusting after young girls at his age!

    The next day Miss Trumble found herself left to school and entertain the Blackwood children on her own. The Beverley sisters were preparing for their visit to Mannerling. It saddened her that they should betray so much hectic excitement. Would that wretched house which appeared to have a malignant life of its own ever let them go?
    Now that Mark and Beth were at ease with her after their first day of drawing and games, she began formal lessons, enjoying the quick intelligence they showed.
    “You have done very well,” she said at last. “Now I will read you a story.”
    “Not one with ghosts in it,” said Mark.
    “No ghosts. You are not afraid of ghosts, are you, Mark?”
    His expressive little face turned a trifle pale, and he nodded.
    “Come here and sit by me. You have seen a ghost?”
    Again that little nod.
    “At Mannerling?”
    His small hand slid into hers for comfort. He gulped and nodded again.
    “And what did this ghost look like?” Miss Trumble never jeered at the fears of children.
    “Foxy,” whispered Mark. “Sandy hair and green eyes.”
    Miss Trumble felt cold. Judd had looked like that. “There is a picture of a man in the Long Gallery who looks like that.”
    “He was in my room,” said Mark in a low voice.
    Miss Trumble’s gaze sharpened. “Do you mean he was clear, like a real person?”
    “Oh, yes.”
    “Have you told your father of this?”
    “No, miss, I have not been in the way of talking to him.”
    “I think we both should say something. Now, I will read you a story about pirates.”
    His face brightened and he went to sit beside his sister again. As Miss Trumble read the words of the story, her mind raced. She remembered her own fear when that chandelier on which Judd had hanged himself had started to revolve slowly, just as if there were a body hanging from it, and there had been no wind that day. And yet a real-life ghost that this little boy had been able to see and to describe! She could not believe it.
    She finished reading, promising to read more the following day, and sent the children out to play in the garden. Then she went in search of Barry Wort.
    “Such excitement,” said Barry, tossing a bunch of weeds into a wheelbarrow. “You would think they had Mannerling back again, the way they are going on.”
    “I am beginning to regret not moving to Mannerling to look after those children.”
    “You, miss? You would never desert us!”
    “It is tempting. Let me tell you. The boy, Mark, swears he has seen the ghost of Judd.”
    “Could it be, miss, because the boy was frightened and unhappy with that governess? Children do be very fanciful.”
    “No, Barry, I do not think it is fancy in this case. If he had talked of a spectral figure or anything thatsounded like a Gothic romance, I would have put it down to imagination. But he saw a real figure. Do you think perhaps that someone is playing a nasty trick on him?”
    “With your permission, miss, and that of Mr. Blackwood, I would suggest that maybe I spend a few nights with the boy, on guard, so to speak.”
    Miss Trumble smiled. “What would I do without you?” Barry coloured with pleasure. “You are always so sensible. I will discuss the matter with Mr. Blackwood.”
    Two carriages from Mannerling arrived. Miss Trumble and the children went in the smaller one and Lady Beverley and her daughters in the larger. Lady Beverley was showing no signs of illness and was dressed in a modish gown of blue silk with darker-blue velvet stripes and a bonnet embellished with dyed ostrich plumes. Rachel noticed that her mother had adopted the haughty, grand manner she had shown when she was