Menfreya in the Morning by Victoria Holt Read Free Book Online

for his carriage, so we saw it arrive. Very shortly afterwards I was summoned to the library.
    Never had I seen his eyes so cold; never had he looked at me with such dislike; and never had I felt so ugly as I did when I limped into that room. Strangely enough, when I was aware of my deformity I fancied it became more obvious; and hi his presence I was always conscious of it.
    “Come here,” he said, and as usual the tone in his voice when he addressed me made me feel as though cold water was being poured down my back.
    “I am shocked beyond belief. I could never contemplate such ingratitude, such selfishness, such wickedness. How could you … even you—and I have learned that you are capable of many undutiful acts—but how could you be capable of such conductl”
    I did not answer. The last thing I could do was try to explain my reasons to him. I wasn’t entirely sure of them myself. Their roots were too deeply embedded; and I knew even at this time that those few ill-chosen words of Aunt Clarissa’s were not the entire reason why I had left home.
    “Speak when I ask a question. Do not give me insolence as well as ingratitude.”
    He took a step towards me and I thought he was going to strike me. I almost wished he would. I believed I could have endured a hot hatred rather than a cold dislike. “Papa, I … wanted to get away. I …” “You wanted to run away? You wanted to cause trouble. Why did you come here?”
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    Menfreya in the Morning
    “I… I wanted to come to Menfreya.”
    “The whim of a moment. You should be whipped … insensible.” His mouth twisted into an expression of distaste. Phys-ical violence was repulsive to him, I knew. Any dog which disobeyed him was not corrected; it was destroyed. I thought then: He would like to destroy me. But he would never whip me.
    He turned away from me as though he could not bear to look at me. “Everything you want is yours. You have every comfort. Yet you have no gratitude. You delight in giving us acute anxiety and causing trouble. When I think that it was to give you birth that your mother died …”
    I wanted to scream at him to stop. I could not bear to bear him say this. I knew that he had thought it often, but to hear the words gave the horror deeper meaning. I could not bear it. I wanted to creep into a comer and cry.
    Yet instead of the pain I felt, my face was forming itself into those ugly, obstinate tines, and I could not prevent it He saw this, and the loathing which was deep in him for this monster who had robbed him of a loved one that it might have life was temporarily unleashed. He took brief comfort in giving freedom to the bitter resentment which had been smolderiag for years.
    “When I saw you . .. when they told me your mother was dead, I wanted to throw you out of the house.”
    The words were out. They hit me more cruelly than any whip could have done. He had crystallized the scene. I saw the ugly baby in the nurse’s arms; I saw the dead woman on the bed; and his face. I could even hear his voice: “Throw it out of the house.”
    It was there forever in my mind. Previously I had guessed at his dislike; I had been able to delude myself that I had imagined it; that he was a man who did not easily express his feelings; that deep down he loved me. But that was over. Perhaps he was ashamed. His voice had softened a little. **I despair of ever imbuing you with a sense of decency,” he said. “Not only do you make trouble for yourself but for others. The entire household has been disrupted. We have been invaded by reporters.”
    He was talking to hide his confusion; and I was only half* listening, because I was thinking of his anger when he looked at the baby in the nurse’s arms. “At least,” he said, “you must not abuse* the hospitality
    Victoria Holt
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    of Menfreya any longer than necessary. We will leave at once for Chough Towers.”
    Chough Towers was an early Victorian mansion about a mile from Menfreya. My father had