Victoria Holt Read Free

but work. And what could I do? What had I been trained for?”
    “Not as a housemaid,” said Monique with good French logic.
    At which we all laughed, including Elsa.
    We couldn’t help liking her and we used to encourage her to come and talk to us. She was amusing and very knowledgeable about the legends of the German forests where she said she had spent her early childhood before her father brought her to England where she had lived for a while before coming to Switzerland.
    “I like to think of all those trolls hiding underground,” she said. “Used to make my flesh creep. There were nice stories too about knights in armor coming along and carrying off maidens to Valhalla…or somewhere.”
    “That was where they went when they died,” I reminded her.
    “Well, to some nice place where there was feasting and banquets.”
    She took to joining us most afternoons.
    “What would Madame de Guérin say if she knew?” asked Lydia.
    “We’d probably be expelled,” added Monique.
    “What luck for all those on the waiting list. Four at one go.”
    Elsa would sit on the edge of a chair laughing at us.
    “Tell me about your father’s château” she would say to Monique.
    And Monique told her about the formality of her home and how she was more or less betrothed to Henri de la Creseuse who owned the estate adjoining her father’s.
    Then Frieda told of her stern father who would certainly find a baron at least for her to marry. Lydia spoke of her two brothers who would be bankers like her father.
    “Tell me about Cordelia,” said Elsa.
    “Cordelia is the luckiest of the lot,” cried Lydia. “She has the most wonderful aunt who lets her do just what she likes. I love to hear about Aunt Patty. I am sure she’ll never try to make Cordelia marry some baron or old man because he has a title and money. Cordelia will marry just whom she pleases.”
    “And she’ll be rich in her own right. She’ll have that lovely old Manor House. It’ll all be yours one day, Cordelia, and you won’t have to marry someone to get it.”
    “I shan’t want it because it means Aunt Patty would have to die first.”
    “But it will all be yours one day. You’ll be rich and independent.”
    Elsa wanted to know about Grantley Manor and I gave a glowing description. I wondered if I exaggerated a little, stressing the splendors of Grantley. I certainly did not in describing the eccentric charm of Aunt Patty. No one could really do her justice. But how happy I was talking of her and how the others envied me, coming as they did from sterner and more conventional homes.
    “I reckon,” said Elsa one day, “you’ll all be married very soon.”
    “Heaven forbid,” said Lydia. “I want to enjoy myself first.”
    “Have you ever been to Pilcher’s Peak?” asked Elsa.
    “I’ve heard of it,” said Frieda.
    “It’s only two miles from here.”
    “Is it worth seeing?” I asked.
    “Oh yes. It’s in the forest; a strange rock. There’s a story about it. I always liked those stories.”
    “What story?”
    “If you go there on certain times you can see your future lover…or husband.”
    We laughed.
    Monique said: “I’ve no particular desire to see Henri de la Creseuse just now. Time enough when I leave.”
    “Ah,” said Elsa, “but it may be the fates have decided he is not meant for you.”
    “And the man who is will appear at this place? What is this Pilcher’s Peak?”
    “I’ll tell you the story. Years and years ago they used to take lovers caught in adultery to Pilcher’s Peak, make them climb to the top and then throw them down. They always took them there on the night of the full moon. So many died that their blood made the ground fertile and the trees grew round the Peak and made the forest.”
    “And this is the place we ought to visit?”
    “Cordelia is in her last term. She won’t have many opportunities, and she ought to see it while she can. Tomorrow night it will be full moon and it’s the Hunter’s