Castle of Secrets by Amanda Grange Read Free Book Online Page A

Miss
Parkins?’ asked Helena .
    He hesitated,
and she thought: He is afraid of Miss Parkins, too .
    When he had
told her all he could, she dismissed him.
    Once he had
left the room, she took her letter out of her pocket. She had not been going to
send it, thinking that she would see Caroline soon, but she changed her mind.
She wanted to see if a letter sent from the castle would arrive. If it never
reached its destination, then it was possible that Aunt Hester had written to
her, but that Aunt Hester’s letter had never reached its destination, either.
    Finding
sealing wax in the drawer, she was about to apply it to her letter when she
paused. If Dawkins read it – and having met him, she would not put it past him
– she did not want him to discover that she was not Mrs Reynolds. She found
paper and a quill, and she rewrote the letter. As she began to write, she was
pleased with the pen’s smoothness, and was reminded of Aunt Hester, who had
prided herself on her quills. She had told Helena on more than one occasion that she
could not hope to write a neat hand with an ill-mended pen, advice that had
gone home, for Helena had always admired her aunt’s handwriting.
    She thought
for a few minutes, composing the letter carefully in her head, and then began
to write.
    My dearest
Caroline,
    I have
arrived at the castle, and his lordship has given me the position as his new
housekeeper. I have not found what I was looking for, but I have not despaired
of finding it either, and mean to persevere. I am sure you will be pleased to
know that I am well. You will not have time to write me more than a line or
two, I don’t suppose, but let me know if you are well, and if you hear anything
of H, please let me know. You may send your reply to me here at the castle.
Address it to:
    Mrs
Reynolds
    Torkrow Castle
    Seremoor
    Yorkshire
    Fondest
regards,
    Your dear
friend
    She scrawled
an illegible signature at the bottom of the letter, then sanded it, and, when
it had dried, she folded it and fastened it with sealing wax. Then she went out
into the hall, and looked about her for the table.
    Seen in full
daylight, the hall was even larger than she had imagined, and just as austere.
The light glinted on the silver armour and lit the stone with a cold light.
    Her eye fell
on the oak table, and she crossed to it and put her letter in the bowl. There
were no further letters there, and she wondered how long it would be before it
was sent.
    She heard a
clanking sound and started, but, turning round, she saw that it was only Effie,
carrying a bucket of coal towards the housekeeper’s room. As she watched her, Helena thought that, although
the girl was young and nervous, if she was capable of going through the
housekeeper’s desk, she might also be capable of tampering with the mail.
Perhaps she had interfered with it innocently, dropping the bowl as she dusted
beneath it, and seeing that a letter was damaged, perhaps she had taken it in
order to escape a scolding. It was possible.
    She questioned
the girl gently, but Effie maintained that she never touched the mail, so she
let her go about her business.
    Who else
crossed the hall in the course of the day? she wondered, as she glanced at her
letter, which lay defenceless in the bowl. Mrs Beal might venture into the hall
occasionally, but Helena did not believe Mrs Beal would interfere with the post. And then there was Miss
Parkins. Helena shivered as she thought
of the waxen face and the long, cold hands. Miss Parkins would be capable of
taking one of Aunt Hester’s letters, but why?
    There was no
one else . . . except Martha and Sally. They had both been at the castle when
her aunt had been there, and perhaps one of them had seen it, or taken it.
    There was a
sound of footsteps behind her, and his lordship came into view, followed by
Dawkins, who was hurrying to keep up.
    ‘Go to the
stables. Tell them to ready my horse. I want it brought round to the front of
the castle.’
    ‘Yes, my