Forbidden by Eve Bunting Read Free Book Online Page B

myself.”
    I nodded to say I agreed with her.
    “Sometimes he has to go away for several weeks, but he always comes back.” She paused. “More tea?”
    “Thank you, but no,” I told her.
    “Another scone?”
    “That would be delightful.” I fissled my brains to think of a way to ask more questions about Eli. What was this consuming need I had to find out about him?
    “Does he work in Brindle?”
    “Oh, no!” She fetched a scone and set it in front of me. “He is involved in his own work.”
    “And what is that?” I pretended great interest in spreading the blaeberry jam on my scone.
    There was a moment’s silence and then she said, “You will need to ask him. He is a very private person.”
    Had I been too forthright? Had I been snubbed? No. When I looked at Mrs. Stuart, her expression was as pleasant and friendly as it had been before.
    She asked me about my mother and father and sympathized. It was not false sympathy. I could tell. I remembered my uncle with his perfunctory “we offer our condolences.” This was different.
    “Eli’s parents passed on also,” she said. “That was why he came back to live with me for a longer time than is usual.”
    “Oh,” I said. “He is an orphan too. Like me.”
    “Yes.”
    A painting of a woman and a man hung on the wall. She saw me looking at it.
    “Those were Eli’s parents,” she said.
    The man was dressed in dark velvet breeches and a white ruffled shirt with a blue velvet waistcoat cut in the new fashion. The woman wore an Empire-style dress with a low neckline. At her throat was a delicate chain embellished with a shining purple pendant. Her hair was a deep, dark red. The artist had caught the tenderness and charm of her expression.
    “They are very handsome,” I said.
    She sighed. “Yes. That was the dress Miranda wore the night she drowned.”
    She added more honey to her tea and closed her eyes.
    When she was through with what I assumed was a moment of private grief, she asked me about my long journey to get there and about Edinburgh, and I had an impression that she wanted to speak no more about Eli or his parents. Maybe she felt she had said too much. But that was ridiculous. She had actually said little.
    I told her of the city’s ornamental gardens and about the castle high on the hill.
    “It is a beautiful city,” I said. “I hope to return to it in two years’ time.”
    We drank our tea.
    A short time later, she said, “I will summon Eli now, if you are ready.”
    I rose from the chair. “I have troubled him enough,” I said. “I no longer require his help. I know my way back.”
    Why had I made such a pronouncement? I knew I did want to trouble him again, to have him walk with me. I was asserting my independence and demonstrating that although I might have appeared curious about Eli, I had no interest in him. As I’d promised myself.
    Foolish girl! My mother would have said I was spiting myself and I would be sorry for it. I was already sorry.
    “I thank you again for your ministrations,” I said. “I do believe that already the pain in my ankle has lessened.”
    “I’m glad to hear it. But it would be wise to have Eli walk with you, this one time. Your ankle may be weak. You might need his help.”
    She leaned across her narrow bed and knocked on the wall.
    “It is not necessary—” I began.
    “It may be.”
    “Very well.”
    I was going to have his company again. I had demurred politely, but I had been overruled. I could not keep the pleasure out of my voice, or, I imagined, out of my face. I was aware that the color was rising in my cheeks, and I took a deep breath. I must stay calm. What was the matter with me? I was acting and thinking like a silly goose.
    Mrs. Stuart came across to me and took my hands in hers. “My dear. You have faced too many distressing events. I sympathize.” She paused, and I saw her bite her lip. “But I do want to warn you. Do not give your heart to Eli. If you do, it will be