Demon Child Read Free Page B

encircle her and someone to love and be loved by. Since Grandmother Brighton's death, the world had seemed more and more inhospitable as time went by. She had the silly, impossible wish never to have to leave the Brucker Estate again.
        Richard joined them when he had changed to dry clothes, and they had a delightful mid-afternoon tea with cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches, wedges of cheese, crackers and potato chips. Frank and Freya, the twins, seemed to come out of their cocoons somewhat, offered a few words of response to questions she asked them. They even smiled once or twice. She decided that their original coolness was more the result of their training in manners and behavior than it was any conscious effort to make her feel ill at ease.
        At last, shortly after four o'clock, Cora said, “But we're being very rude to you, dear. You've had a long bus ride. You'll want a bath and a few hours of rest before supper. Harold serves us at seven-thirty in the small family room just a few steps further down the corridor.” She turned to Richard. “Have you put her bags upstairs?”
        “In the blue room, Cora,” he said, finishing his tea.
        “Come along then, Jenny,” Cora said. “I'll show you where you'll be spending these summer nights.”
        As they walked up the long, central staircase from the entrance foyer, Jenny began to notice, for the first time, the barely checked case of bad nerves in her aunt. Cora played with her long, dark hair as she walked, winding strands of it in her fingers, releasing those strands, winding others. She spoke too quickly, with a nervous, forced gaiety that could no longer be attributed to her seeing her niece for the first time since Grandmother Brighton's funeral.
        Too, for the first time since she had entered the house, Jenny was aware of the storm again. It banged on the slate roof. It pattered rain against the windows. Flickers of lightning played through the glass and danced on the dark steps for brief, unpleasant moments.
        “We'll do some riding this summer,” Cora said as they topped the stairs and left them for the second floor corridor. “Do you like horses?”
        “I've ridden them once or twice,” Jenny said. “But you'll make me look like a city slicker in the saddle.”
        “Richard is marvelous with horses,” Cora said. “He can teach you what you don't know. He handles the family business, but it leaves him a great deal of spare time.”
        At the end of the corridor, Cora opened a heavy, dark-stained pecan door which had been hand-carved with the forms of dragons and elves. It might once have been destined to be a child's room. It was large, airy, with two windows curtained with umber velvet. The bed was large, spread over with a white satin quilt. There were two dressers, a full-length mirror, a night-stand and two bookcases half filled with various kinds of books, from classic to modern fiction.
        Her bags waited on a bellboy stand, their tops open, their contents on display. Perhaps it had only been polite of Richard to open the cases so that they could air while waiting for her attention. Just the same, she did not like the idea of his taking such a liberty.
        Cora did not seem to notice.
        Am I being too stuffy? Jenny wondered. Why am I acting as if I have something to fear from my own loved ones?
        She vowed, to herself, to try to be a little less suspicious of people who only wished to help her.
        “You have a private bath there, through that door,” Cora said. She was winding a coil of dark hair around her index finger, smiling but not smiling.
        “It's all so wonderful!” Jenny said, meaning it. She was unaccustomed to such luxury.
        Cora stopped fiddling with her hair and took both of Jenny's hands. The woman's grasp was dry and warm. “I'm so very happy that you came here, Jenny,” she said.
        “So am I, Aunt Cora.”
        “No, no, you don't