The Interrupted Tale by Maryrose Wood Read Free Book Online Page A

tetrameter, more or less,” Penelope announced brightly, pushing her way past the waving feathers. “Children, I have excellent news. We are going on a trip, to the Swanburne Academy for Poor Bright Females.” Even saying the name made her voice catch with feeling. What a joyful homecoming it would be!
    â€œPoor Bright Females,” Cassiopeia gloated to her brothers. “No boys. Bye-bye!”
    The boys looked crestfallen, and Penelope rushed to explain. “It is true that the students at Swanburne are all girls, and that the teachers are nearly all women—but there are some men there as well, like my old friend Dr. Westminster, who cares for the animals. And boys are certainly welcome as visitors. In fact, all three of you children have been specially invited by Miss Mortimer. I am sure everyone will make a fuss over you.”
    Penelope pulled a spare suitcase out of the closet and began to plan what to pack for the trip. Meanwhile, the thought of being fussed over by a whole school full of girls had struck fear into Alexander. He ran and stood in front of the mirror with a wet comb and slicked his hair around in different ways, but it always reverted to its natural upright position.
    â€œWhy are we going to Swanburne?” Beowulf asked. His hair was just as unruly as his brother’s, but he felt no similar urge to comb it. This may have been yet another sign of his artistic nature, or perhaps he was just too young to think of it. “Is Cassawoof going to school?”
    Now it was Cassiopeia’s turn to look worried. The question gave Penelope pause as well, for Cassiopeia was about the same age Penelope had been when she was first delivered to Swanburne—had she really been that young? She had no clear memory of the day; it was all in bits and pieces, like many different pockets emptied carelessly into the same drawer.
    She had traveled to Swanburne by train, of that she was certain. If she closed her eyes, she could still hear the clickety-clack of the wheels. She assumed that her parents had brought her, but she could not actually picture them at Swanburne. Instead, she remembered the firm grasp of Miss Charlotte Mortimer’s hand, leading an absurdly tiny version of Penelope to the dormitory to put away her things before supper.
    Had she wept openly to say farewell, or bitten her lip to keep the tears inside? Had she strained to look over her shoulder for one last good-bye? Or did she march bravely into her new home without a backward glance? Penelope had tried to conjure the scene so many times that she no longer could tell what was memory and what was simply her own imagined version of the day. Yet if she concentrated hard, she could still summon the feeling of that warm grown-up hand enveloping hers, the sound of Miss Mortimer’s heels clicking along the wooden floors, and the sight of pillows everywhere—in the chairs and window seats, embroidered with sayings she was not yet old enough to read.
    â€œSurely a place with so many pillows is bound to be pleasant,” the little girl had chirped bravely to the tall, strange lady at her side.
    â€œI hope you will find it so,” Miss Mortimer had replied, with a tender and welcoming smile.
    Her reverie was broken by a whimper. Its source was Cassiopeia, whose large, sea-green eyes brimmed with tears at the thought of being shipped off to school, far away from her brothers and her beloved Lumawoo.
    Penelope sat in her armchair; the girl jumped in her lap and curled up in a protective ball, like a startled hedgehog. “Cassiopeia has a private governess and is the ward of one of the richest men in England. She has no need of a school for poor bright females.” Penelope patted her littlest pupil reassuringly. “We are taking a trip to Swanburne because I have been asked to give a speech at the CAKE.”
    At the word “cake,” Cassiopeia stopped whimpering. Her brothers perked to