The Sweetest Dark Read Free Page A

his spectacles. “It enjoys a sterling reputation. You are fortunate indeed they had an unexpected opening for a new charity student.”
    â€œYes, sir,” I had replied. I had been summoned to the hallowed office of the director, seated with well-mannered precision at the edge of the chair before his desk. The room was cramped with bookcases and cabinets and the lace curtains behind him were caked with dust; it was a little surprising more of it hadn’t flaked off from the air strikes.
    Mr. H. W. Forrester had fleshy jowls and salt-and-pepper hair greased with pomade and veiny, restless fingers that tended to tap across the scattered sheets of paper before him. I was very careful never to look even once at the diamond stickpin in his tie.
    â€œIt’s on the southern coast, set near Idylling. Seat of the dukes of Idylling. The Louis family, you know.”
    â€œOh,” I said.
    â€œLovely area. I myself spent a holiday there once.” He leaned back in his chair, his gaze taking on a faraway cast. “Sandy beaches. Balmy breezes. One may sea-bathe in utter comfort… .”
    I counted silently to twenty, then cleared my throat. “What happened to her, sir?”
    Mr. Forrester lowered his gaze back to me. “To whom?”
    â€œTo the other girl? The one who left the opening for a new student?”
    â€œWhy, I’m certain nothing happened to her, Eleanore. Really, what a question. I trust you will manage to curb that macabre bent of yours once at Iverson. You won’t make many friends that way.”
    â€œNo, sir,” I agreed, and pressed my lips shut.
    London wasn’t the only part of the country being attacked. The dailies were full of articles about how the Germans were beginning to bomb the coasts, as well, as far as they could go in their massive zeppelin airships.
    Wessex. I’d bet the sterling school of Iverson had found itself with a sudden slew of student openings.
    â€œThe headmistress, Mrs. Westcliffe, has been made aware of your particular … personal history and has decided to take you in anyway. Provisionally, I might add. The duke himself sponsors the school, you know, and has granted it a very generous endowment for a select few impoverished students. You are an extremely lucky young woman, Eleanore.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œI expect you to make the most of this opportunity.”
    â€œI shall, sir.”
    â€œIndeed. Not many patients from Moor Gate will ever be offered such a reprieve. You must always remember them and your months spent there. Strive to succeed for their sakes, as well as your own.”
    I wondered, very seriously, if Mr. H. W. Forrester had ever noticed the curtain cord hanging down the wall just behind him or considered how easy it might be to wrap it around and around his neck.
    He leaned forward again, his jowls swelling over his collar, and frowned at me with his owlish disapproval. The diamond securing his tie flared.
    â€œYou seem much improved from your first years here, child, but do not give me reason to regret this arrangement. Obey the headmistress without question, and fulfill all your duties to the duke and to the school.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    He frowned at me for a moment more, then sighed. “That will be all, Miss Jones.”
    And it was. That had been my last evening in the Home.
    Idylling, Iverson, dukes and bombs and sea-bathing …
    I didn’t care if the Huns shelled it every night, if the duke wanted me to dance a jig for my suppers, or if the school itself was situated smack in the middle of the South Pole. It would be better than Blisshaven, I told myself, savoring each chewy bite of that cold sausage on the train. Better than Moor Gate.
    Better than anything, really. How could it not be?
    Of course, that last, hopeful thought occurred to me only hours before I would meet Jesse and Armand, those two savagely different and yet dangerously similar