Angel by Elizabeth Taylor Read Free Book Online Page B

sealskin cap. “I can’t see anything against your going to school for just one more term. After all, we’ll have to pay for it. Then if we could get you a nice job in an office, you’d have all your evenings for writing your stories. It’s a shame not to make the most of your education, I think. All that French!” Now she had taken off her hat and was pushing the pins back into it, oblivious of the bitter feelings she was provoking.
    Angel waited until her aunt had finished speaking, then, saying nothing herself, closed her book and went out of the room.
    Aunt Lottie turned round in surprise and looked at her sister.
    â€œSo it’s been all the week,” said Mrs Deverell. “I don’t know what’s come over her.” She sat down where Angel had been sitting and put her hand across her eyes. “If only Ernie were still with me! I never was so worried.”
    â€œIt looks very much to me as if madam needs a good box on the ears,” Aunt Lottie said briskly. “You’ve spoilt her, Emmy. Story-writing! Where’s she got that from?”
    â€œWhen she comes back, don’t say any more.”
    Mrs Deverell began to lay the table for tea. Twice Eddie called up the stairs that he was busy in the shop and she went down to help him.
    The cook from Paradise House had sent some almond tarts, and Aunt Lottie arranged them on a plate.
    â€œI’ll call her,” Mrs Deverell said uncertainly. She wondered if the girl would come, or even answer. Perhaps she had locked herself in her bedroom again.
    â€œTea’s ready, Angel!” She tried to keep anxiety from her voice, but her sister could hear it and thought of the piece of her mind she was more than ready to give to her niece.
    Angel came in, blinking at the brighter light. She seemed unconcerned, though vague. The three of them stood behind their chairs while Grace was said.
    â€œIt’s kind of cook,” said Mrs Deverell. She glanced at the almond tarts as she sat down. “They must think a lot of you.”
    â€œWell, it’s eighteen years I’ve been in service there. I sometimes wonder what Madam would do without me,” Aunt Lottie said complacently. “I don’t think she could put on her own stockings, nor lay her hands on anything. ‘Where’s this? Where’s that?’ it is from morn till night. Only yesterday she said: ‘We’ve been together since we were both eighteen.’ I sometimes think we’re more like sisters. I went on her honeymoon with her. We went to Paradise House together.”
    â€œDo you put her stockings on for her, then?” Angel asked. They were surprised at this unusual interest. The two sisters looked at one another.
    â€œI do,” Aunt Lottie said. “Is there anything so strange in that?”
    â€œWell, it seems strange to us ,” Mrs Deverell said soothingly. “I don’t think I should like to have someone do that for me.”
    â€œWhat happens on your half-day?” Angel asked. “How does she manage then?”
    â€œShe has to make do with ringing for one of the housemaids. I always go in to tidy up when I get back. I take a pride in her clothes and she knows it. ‘Look at this lovely new négligé we’ve got’, she’ll say, excited as a child.” Aunt Lottie had turned to her sister, but Angel listened carefully. “I always feel proud of her when she goes down to dinner. Like on her wedding-day. She was a credit to me then. I’ve never seen gloves on any lady that fit like hers. When she goes to the Opera you’d think they’d grown on her: not a wrinkle anywhere. I glue the tops of them to her arms with a touch of spirit gum. I suppose it’s a work of art, which sometimes she hasn’t the patience for. Miss Angelica comes in and reads to her when she gets restless.”
    â€œWhat does she read?” asked Angel.
    Aunt Lottie’s glance