Neferet's Curse: A House of Night Novella (House of Night Novellas) Read Free Page A

spoke into the silence. “I am sure you are a great comfort to your father.”
    “We tried to see you for two whole months, but you wouldn’t receive us, not even during the holidays. It was like you’d disappeared!” Camille blurted as I poured her tea. “I thought you’d died, too.”
    “I’m sorry.” At first, her words had made me contrite. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
    “Of course you didn’t,” Mrs. Elcott had said, frowning at her daughter. “Camille, Emily wasn’t disappearing—she was mourning.”
    “I still am,” I’d said softly. Camille heard me and nodded, wiping her eyes, but her mother had been too busy helping herself to the iced cakes to pay either of us much attention.
    There was a silence that seemed very long while we sipped our tea and I pushed the small, white cake around my plate, and then, in a high, excited voice, Mrs. Elcott asked, “Emily, were you really there? In the room with her when Alice died?”
    I’d looked to Camille, wishing for an instant that she could silence her mother, but of course that had been a foolish, futile wish. My friend’s face had mirrored my own discomfort, though she did not appear shocked at her mother’s disregard for propriety and privacy. I realized then that Camille had known her mother was going to question me thus. I drew a deep, fortifying breath and answered truthfully, though hesitantly, “Yes. I was there.”
    “It must have been quite ghastly,” Camille said quickly.
    “Yes,” I said. I’d placed my teacup carefully in its saucer before either of them could see that my hand trembled.
    “I expect there had been a lot of blood,” Mrs. Elcott said, nodding slowly as if in pre-agreement with my response.
    “There was.” I’d clasped my hands tightly together in my lap.
    “When we heard you were in the room when she died, we were all so very sorry for you,” Camille had said softly, hesitantly.
    Shocked silent, I could almost hear Mother’s voice saying sharply, Servants and their gossip! I was mortified that Mother’s death had been the topic of gossip, but I’d also longed to talk to Camille, to tell her how frightened I’d been. But before I could collect myself enough to speak, her mother’s sharp voice had intruded.
    “Indeed, it was all anyone could talk about for weeks and weeks. Your poor mother would have been appalled. Bad enough that you missed the Christmas Ball, but for the topic of conversation during the evening to have been your witnessing her gruesome death…” Mrs. Elcott shuddered. “Alice would have thought it as dreadful as it was.”
    My cheeks had flamed hot. I had utterly forgotten about the Christmas Ball, and my sixteenth birthday. Both had taken place in December, when sleep had been cloaking me from life.
    “Everyone was talking about me at the ball?” I’d wanted to run back to my room and never emerge.
    Camille’s words came fast, and she had made a vague movement, as if she understood how difficult the conversation had become for me and was trying to brush away the subject. “Nancy, Evelyn, and Elizabeth were worried about you. We were all worried about you—we still are.”
    “You left out one person who seemed especially concerned: Arthur Simpton. Remember how you said he could talk of nothing except how horrible it all must have been for Emily, even while he was waltzing with you.” Mrs. Elcott hadn’t sounded worried at all. She’d sounded angry.
    I’d blinked and felt as if I was swimming up through deep, murky waters. “Arthur Simpton? He was talking about me?”
    “Yes, while he danced with Camille .” Mrs. Elcott’s tone had been hard with annoyance, and I’d suddenly understood why—Arthur Simpton was the eldest son of a wealthy railroad family that had recently relocated from New York City to Chicago, because of close business ties with Mr. Pullman. Besides being rich, suitably bred, and eligible, he was also extremely handsome. Camille and I had whispered