A Christmas Visitor by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

Antonia and Joshua alone, with this unexplained.” He looked at Ephraim’s face, pale under the African sunburn. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have told you better things.”
    Ephraim put his hand on Henry’s arm and clasped it hard. “The truth, Henry. That is all that will serve us. Thank you for coming. We shall need your help.”
    Henry did not say that they had it; Ephraim knew that.

    It was a quiet, somber evening, rain and snow alternately beating against the windows and the fire roaring in the hearth. They ate Lakeland mutton and sweet, earth-flavored potatoes with herbs mixed in. Spices were imported along the coast, and Cumberland gingerbread was famous. Hot, with cream, it made an excellent pudding.
    Ephraim and Benjamin spoke quietly together, sharing memories, and Henry sat by the fire with Antonia, mostly listening to whatever she wanted to say, and when she preferred, telling her tales of London and the busy city life that she had never experienced.

    Henry slept well, tired after the drive through the wind and snow to Penrith, but he woke early, while it was still dark. He did not wish to lie in bedany longer, and he rose and dressed warmly and was outside before the dawn.
    By the time the sun rose over the mountains to the southwest, and spread soft, pearly light through a mackerel sky, he was more than halfway to the stepping stones at the upper crossing where Judah had died.
    Thoughts whirled in his mind as he trudged over the crisp unbroken snow, splashed pink by the sun. Was he imagining the emotion in Ephraim’s voice as he asked if Nathaniel’s widow was coming as well? Even as he asked himself the question, the certainty of the answer was in his mind: Ephraim himself had been in love with her then, and the memory of it was sharp still.
    Of course he would not have seen her since the last time they had both been home, which, as far as Henry knew, was seven years ago. People could change a great deal in such a time. Experience could refine their feelings, or obliterate them.
    Henry had not met her, and knew nothing exceptthat she was English, from the east coast, and Nathaniel had known her for only a few months before marrying her. They had left for America shortly after that. Antonia had spoken warmly of her; Judah had seemed to have some reservations, but he had not said what they were. Had they been only an awareness that his youngest brother had loved her as well?
    He was making his way downhill very slightly now, being careful not to slip. The stream lay ahead of him, running fast. The recent snow had added to it; it washed almost to the top of the stepping stones placed across it, ten in all, flat, carefully chosen.
    Where the stream had carved little bays and hollows out of the bank the current had carried ice down and left it, glittering in the broadening light. The far bank rose more steeply. Henry looked from left to right, but there was nothing except faint indentations where sheep had made tracks for themselves. What on earth would bring Judah here, at night? To be alone with thoughts that troubled him so intenselyhe could not address them in the house, with Antonia present? Or to meet someone?
    Had he been afraid of Ashton Gower and the damage he could cause? Had Gower threatened Antonia, or even Joshua? Would Judah have considered paying him in some way, to protect them?
    That was nothing like the man Henry had known. But do people change when those they love are threatened?
    He stared up and down the swollen stream. In the daylight he could see the fall clearly, the water splashing white over the jagged rocks. They were certainly sharp enough to have caused the injuries Leighton had described. Everything fitted with the facts. Ice on the stones, one false step, poor balance, even simple tiredness, and a fall could cause a blow that would render one senseless. Face down and one could drown in minutes—the water did not need to be deep. The current could carry a body down to the