Withering Heights by Dorothy Cannell Read Free Book Online Page B

and bedraggled; her feet in inadequate sandals, her sandy plaits looking as though they had swabbed decks.
    “Hello, Ellie.” She sized up my welcome through rain-fogged spectacles, as I peeled off the sodden raincoat and tossed it over the banister. Her face was a pale pinch-lipped blur. I envisioned Jane Eyre’s friend Helen Burns and held my breath against the pathetic eruption of a consumptive cough.
    “Sorry to burst in on you like this.” She didn’t sound regretful.
    “Why tap at the window, instead of ringing the bell?”
    “I didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot by waking the children if they were in bed.”
    “That was thoughtful, but they’re with their grandparents in London.”
    “What about Ben?”
    “He’s at the pub with my cousin. Let’s get you into the drawing room where it’s warmer.” I led the way, still in something of a dream state.
    “You won’t believe the horrible time I had getting here. Sometimes life can be too cruel,” she said, as I settled her on the sofa. “Would you believe, Ellie, there wasn’t a buffet on the train? It almost made me wish I hadn’t come.”
    “And where would that be from?” I asked, switching on extra lighting before closing the window against more visitors.
    “Yorkshire.”
    Why was I not surprised?
    “I had to wait ages for a taxi after my train got in.”
    “Ariel”—I sat down across from her—“do your father and Betty know you’re here?”
    “I told them I was going to my friend Brandy’s house and that her parents were okay with my spending the night.”
    “Ariel!” Unable to think, I bundled a sofa blanket around her. “After I’ve made you a cup of cocoa and something to eat, you have to let them know what’s going on. Meanwhile, take off those wet shoes and settle back comfortably. Wipe your glasses.” I pointed to a paper napkin on the table beside her that I had failed to pick up earlier when tidying away the tea things. I headed for the door. “Now you’re defogged you can see where you are. Try and relax.”
    “How can I when my life is in turmoil?”
    “We’ll get to that in a minute.” It was good to draw breath in the hall, but before I could fully recuperate I was summoned back to the drawing room by a piercing scream.
    “A cat jumped out at me.” Ariel glared at me through her now-clear lenses. “A great, horrid tabby cat.”
    “He lives here.”
    “I hate cats.”
    “Do you?” I forced a smile. Receiving none in return, I fled back into the hall, where I beheld Mrs. Malloy descending the stairs, majestically crowned with purple hair rollers. Having been engaged in her nightly ablutions, she was only wearingone eyebrow. This did not stop her, while clutching her matching dressing gown around her chest, from informing me that I looked pale.
    “I feel pale.”
    “I thought I heard the kettle whistle.”
    “That was a scream.”
    “Whose?” She followed me into the kitchen, the clicking of her high heels echoing through the house. “Not Mr. H, waking up to a hangover?”
    “He’s not back. He’s only been gone half an hour.”
    “You, clearing your lungs?”
    “Ariel Hopkins. She absconded from home.”
    “The girl you send the books to? The one that’s parents won the lottery?”
    “That’s her.”
    “Talk about surprises. After you and Mr. H were just discussing them!” Mrs. Malloy hovered at my elbow while I made the cocoa and put a slice of chocolate cake and some digestive biscuits on a plate.
    “Ariel could probably do with a sandwich or, better yet, something hot to eat,” I said, picking up the tray, “but I don’t want to waste unnecessary time. I need to phone Tom and Betty. She told them she was staying at a friend’s house. But if they’ve checked and found she’s not there, they’ll be worried to death.”
    “Where did she spring from?” Mrs. Malloy graciously held the kitchen door open for me.
    “Yorkshire.”
    “You don’t say! Why’s she