Ember Island by Kimberley Freeman Read Free Book Online Page A

sleep?” Tilly said, closing the book.
    “No, no. I think a sunset is a beautiful thing. I have only a few left to see. I will lie here and watch the colors in the room change.”
    “I can stay with you, if you need company.”
    He waved her away. “You shouldn’t even be here now. You should be at your husband’s side. In your beautiful house.” Here he smiled and that familiar twinkle was briefly in his eye, before fading again to weak dullness.
    “I have a lifetime to be at his side, Grandpa,” Tilly said. “You didn’t turn your back on me when I was alone in need and nor shall I turn my back on you.”
    “I didn’t even turn my back on you through all those tantrums,” he said with a smile.
    Tilly’s cheeks flushed. “Well . . . I did learn to manage my temper eventually. Just.”
    “You are a good girl.” He patted her hand. “I wish things could have been . . . different.”
    “I know.”
    “I’m glad you met Jasper when you did.”
    “So am I.”
    Grandpa’s estate was entailed. His own father had specified only male descendants could inherit it. That meant Tilly’s cousin Godfrey could—and would—turn her out quickly and coldly when Grandpa died. The urgency for her to marry had been pressing on Grandpa in the last few years. He had money to offer the right suitor, money that Godfrey would never part with if he hadthe choice. There had been talk of Tilly marrying a family friend who was old enough to be her father, but Grandpa loved her too well to force her into a lifetime of companionship with a man she did not love.
    So yes. Meeting Jasper had been perfectly timed. Now if only Tilly knew if he was still alive. Because without him, when Grandpa died, Tilly had nothing.
    She smoothed Grandpa’s covers over him and kissed him good night, then let herself out of the room and headed down the stairs. Grandpa kept a small staff, and only Mrs. Granger was on tonight, quietly setting the table for Tilly’s supper.
    “Good evening, Mrs. Granger,” she said.
    “How is he?”
    “Much the same. Still very tired.”
    “I’m sure he’ll be up and about again soon.”
    Tilly didn’t answer. Mrs. Granger did not want to believe that Grandpa would die; she had worked for him for forty years. Tilly waited for her to finish setting the table, idly picking off the mantelpiece the card that Jasper had given her when they first met. On it was a woodcut engraving of his house, Lumière sur la Mer, on an island in the English Channel. The front path wound up between poplars to a tall house with arched windows. She hadn’t seen the inside, but knew it intimately from Jasper’s descriptions. The tiled entrance, the sweeping curve of the internal stairs, the ceiling-high bookshelves in the library. On the one hand, she longed to see it. On the other hand, she wanted Grandpa to live forever.
    “Will you eat, Miss Kirkland?”
    Tilly smiled at Mrs. Granger. “I’m Mrs. Dellafore now, remember?”
    “I am so sorry, ma’am,” she said with a deferential drop of her head.
    “We all have other things on our minds. Thank you. The soup smells delicious.” Tilly sat down to eat, but had little appetite. She couldn’t blame Mrs. Granger for forgetting she had a husband. He was nowhere to be seen.
    •
     
    The weather stayed fine and warm, boldly cheerful in the face of her cheerlessness. Another week passed without a letter, and Tilly spent a good many hours of every day debating with herself in her head about what this lack of correspondence meant. He was dead. He was busy. The letters had all become lost. They had been addressed incorrectly and would arrive in a bundle at the very next mail delivery. She tried not to let her terror seep into the letters she wrote to Jasper. She wrote lightly, gave news about the weather and the village, but always ended with a “please write soon; I long to hear from you, my love.”
    As always, she found her comfort in the garden. Summer rain had made the