Prelude for a Lord by Camille Elliot Read Free Book Online Page A

all that in the wardrobe too.”
    “What? No. Why?” Alethea was beginning to feel as if she were in a farcical play.
    “Aren’t we cleaning?” Margaret asked.
    Understanding dawned. “Is this what you did when you cleaned your room? Throw things into the wardrobe?”
    Margaret nodded. “It’s fastest.”
    So she could go out to play as quickly as possible, Alethea would guess. “I have a thought. What if we put things back in their proper places?”
    “That’ll take forever .”
    “Things will be much easier to find than rooting through the wardrobe.”
    Margaret looked at the wardrobe again. “I suppose so.” She picked up the hairbrush from the pile and placed it on the dressing table.
    Alethea folded a petticoat. “Surely your mother did not allow you to fling all your things into the wardrobe that way?”
    Margaret’s movements stilled for a long moment. Her back was to Alethea, so she couldn’t see her face. “No, she didn’t like it.” Margaret’s voice was softer than normal.
    Alethea bit her lip. Margaret was so cheerful a child that she often forgot the girl was still in half-mourning for her parents.
    Although Alethea still missed Calandra, she remembered that in the months after Lady Arkright’s death, it made her feel better to speak of her to others. There hadn’t been many in the neighborhood who were close to the widow because she was Italian, but when Sir William Arkright’s heir dismissed all of Lady Arkright’s servants, Alethea had visited them and helped them find new positions. Speaking to them of their mistress had given Alethea great comfort.
    But how to get Margaret to speak to her? Alethea again felt that pang of awkwardness because of her lack of experience with children.
    “So, um . . . tell me nice stories about your mother.” Alethea winced as soon as the words came out of her mouth. She half expected Margaret to burst into tears or run from the room.
    There was a long silence. Then the girl half turned toward her. “Mama never let the maids clean for me. She wanted me to learn to be neat. She didn’t like it when I threw my things into the wardrobe.” Her voice was soft, but grew in strength as she continued. “So, one day she sent the maid to tell me to clean my room. When I went to the wardrobe and opened the door, she burst out at me.” Margaret giggled.

    Alethea laughed. “That is a good trick. I think I would have liked your mother.”
    “I think so too.” Margaret picked up a shoe, then put it back in the wardrobe. “Papa was like Aunt Ebena, but Mama could always make him smile.”
    And now she was here with Alethea and Aunt Ebena, with no mama to make any of them smile and an intruder alarming the household. What if Alethea or a maid had interrupted the intruder? Would he have hurt her before escaping?
    Alethea needed to uncover the truth about her violin quickly. She prayed that Aunt Ebena’s friend Lady Whittlesby would be able to help her.
    Pray? No, she had given up praying a year ago, the night she had been locked in her bedroom, still shaking from the pain of her broken fingers and from the fear that she may never be able to play again. God had not helped her then and would not help her now against this trouble. She could only depend upon herself.
    She could not lose her violin. It was the key to all her hopes and dreams.

CHAPTER THREE

    B ayard danced with his mother in the Upper Assembly Rooms while keeping watch over his sister, dancing with Mr. Morrish.
    “Bayard, I don’t understand your prejudice against Mr. Morrish,” his mother said as they danced.
    He pulled his gaze back to his mother, looking particularly fine tonight in a cheerful gold dress he hadn’t seen before. His mother seemed to dress in brighter colours since his father had died over a year ago. They suited her.
    “I don’t know Mr. Morrish well,” Bayard said. “I am simply exercising the rights of an overprotective brother.”
    “Take care you do not stray into