Secret of the Stallion Read Free Page B

English lady, in the English countryside! Pinch me!”
    “I would, but somebody needs to pinch
me
first,” said Carole.
    “This way!” said Tessa. Lisa, Carole, and Stevie followed. “I’ll show you all around Hart-Sinclair—the only way to see it, on horseback.”
    Stevie’s horse lunged forward eagerly, and she was only too happy to let him have his head. He was an energetic sorrel named Copperfield after
David Copperfield
. All of the horses at Dickens were named after characters in Charles Dickens’s novels. Lisa was riding Pip, a gray. Carole’s horse, a chestnut mare, was named Miss Havisham. Those were both names of characters from
Great Expectations
. Tessa’s own horse was named Humbug after Scrooge’s favorite exclamation in
A Christmas Carol
. Everything at Dickens was even nicer and more fun than Stevie and her friends could have imagined.
    V ERONICA FROWNED ONE final time before she reached for the bell at the Chumleys’ house. She was not happy to be there and she was going to be sure her father knew that she’d missed a chance to ride at Dickens in Hart-Sinclair. Perhaps he’d find a tangible way to express his gratitude to her—like a new saddle.
    Veronica pressed the button. A maid answered and requested her name. She was invited inside and asked to wait in the sitting room. She sat and waited.
    The sitting room was dark and grand. The walls held oil portraits of what she suspected were generations of Chumleys. There was a strong jawline that seemed to appear in most of the generations. It wasn’t a very attractive strong jawline, just a strong jawline. Veronica wondered if anybody famous had done any of the paintings. The furniture was old, too. Veronica wondered if any of it was Chippendale. The rugs were oriental. Perhaps they were valuable, too. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
    The door opened. Mr. and Mrs. Chumley walked in slowly. Veronica’s first thought was that they were old. Her second thought was that they were
very
old. Mr. Chumley used a cane. Mrs. Chumley squinted through her glasses, trying to focus on Veronica. Veronica stood up and shook their frail old hands as she knew her father would expect her to do. She smiled as she knew her father would expect her to do. She told them how pleased she was to see them. But all she could think of was how much she wished she were at Hart-Sinclair. Even being with Stevie, Lisa, and Carole was better than this.
    “Edna, bring the tea, won’t you?” Mrs. Chumley asked the maid. “And those nice little almond cakes?”
    They sat.
    Veronica smiled again. “Daddy will be so pleased that I’m having a chance to meet you,” she said.
    Mr. Chumley jutted his strong jaw forward and leaned toward Veronica. His bushy white mustache quivered as he began to form his words.
    “Who’s that?” he asked.
    “M-My father,” Veronica stammered.
    “Mr. diAngelo—from the bank in Virginia, dear. Remember him?” said Mrs. Chumley.
    “DiAngelo, diAngelo,” said the old man. “Can’t say as I do.” He sat back in his chair.
    “Of course you do, Alastair,” said Mrs. Chumley. “And this is their daughter, Jessica.”
    “Veronica,” said Veronica.
    “Of course, Veronica,” agreed Mrs. Chumley.
    The tea arrived. Veronica smiled wanly as Mrs. Chumley assembled a cup of tea and an almond cake on a plate for her. Her eyes were on Mrs. Chumley, but her mind was somewhere else: Harcourt-St. Claire’s-in-the-Wold. She swore to herself that her friends would never, ever, in their entire lives know what a ghastly time she was having with the Chumleys. She blinked back a tear.
    “Tell me, Je—I mean Veronica,” Mrs. Chumley said, “just what it is you’re doing here.”
    “Visiting you,” said Veronica. “You invited me for tea, remember?”
    “You mean you came all the way to England from Virginia for our almond cakes?” Mr. Chumley asked.
    “No, dear,” Mrs. Chumley said to her husband. Then she turned to Veronica.