The Light in the Darkness by Ellen Fisher Read Free Book Online Page A

judiciously. “She could certainly do with a bath and some more suitable clothes. For the time being, we can cut down some of Diana’s—”
    “Absolutely not!” Grey’s shout of outrage was frenzied, and Jenny shrank back, appalled and intimidated by his fury. The man she had married no longer seemed handsome. His face was dark with the combined effects of anger and alcohol, his eyes glinted silver with rage, and his mouth was compressed into a narrow slash across his face.
    Catherine seemed unimpressed. “Don’t be foolish, Grey. No one has used that chamber in seven years. And the gowns are in all likelihood motheaten anyway. You’re being maudlin.”
    “You will not use that chamber for a tavern wench,” Grey ground out between gritted teeth.
    Catherine smiled innocently. “Quite correct, dear. I will use it for your wife.” She gestured imperiously to Jenny, and the girl scurried after her as she hobbled from the chamber. As they began to ascend the broad treads of the staircase, Jenny jumped nervously when she heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering against a wall.
    “Don’t concern yourself about him.” Catherine’s manner was not exactly friendly, but it was less chilling than it had been before. Catherine was beginning to realize she had misjudged the girl. Originally she had thought Jenny a fortune hunter who had somehow trapped Grey into marriage while he was inebriated. But during her argument with Grey it had become evident that the child was onlyhere because Grey had deluded her in some way. No doubt he had thought it a capital joke. She shook her head at her brother’s unbelievably crass behavior and went on, “He’s angry a good eighty percent of the time. The other twenty percent he sulks. One simply has to ignore him and go on living.”
    Jenny swallowed nervously. In her experience, angry men demonstrated their anger in only one way—by striking the first person who got in their way. She found that her mouth was too dry to comment.
    “You
can
speak?” her sister-in-law inquired acidly.
    Jenny nodded shyly, then, realizing that some verbal response was required, stammered, “Yes, of course, but—”
    Catherine interrupted. “We shall have to do something about that wretched accent of yours. And your smell! When did you last bathe?”
    Jenny paused on the landing by an ornately carved mahogany tall case clock that stood nearly nine feet tall. Her brow furrowed in thought, and Catherine waved her hand impatiently. “Never mind. That answers my question quite well enough, thank you. As to your manners, we shall have to tutor you. A word of advice—Don’t emulate Grey.”
    The girl nodded solemnly, and Catherine let out an exasperated sigh. The child could not so much as recognize an attempt at humor. Was there a personality anywhere in that small, fragile body?
    Probably not, Catherine reflected. After all, a tavern maid could have had little opportunity for intellectual conversation, or any conversation at all, for that matter. Brought up in such an environment, the girl could hardly be expected to demonstrate intelligence. Jenny reminded her of a timid mouse who, foolishly venturing from its secure hole, was now paralyzed by its fear of the unknown surroundings. Like a mouse, she seemed to expect a cat to leap upon her and devour her at any moment.
    At the top of the stairs, Catherine pushed open a door. Its hinges creaked as though it had not been opened foryears. “This was Diana’s chamber,” she said, her voice hard once again. But Jenny sensed that the distaste in her voice was aimed at the unknown Diana, not at herself.
    “Who—who was Diana?” she inquired shyly.
    Catherine shot her a look of surprise. “Did he not tell you? Well, I suppose that is no surprise. He rarely speaks of her if he can avoid it.” She stepped into the chamber and glanced around at the dust-covered surfaces.
    “Diana” she said, “was his first wife.”

FIVE
    “D iana died seven