Victoria Holt Read Free Page A

Moon too. That’s a good time.”
    “Hunter’s Moon?” echoed Monique.
    “The one that follows the Harvest Moon. It is one of the best and it is the time of the hunting season. It comes in October.”
    “Is it really October?” asked Frieda. “It seems so warm.”
    “It was cold last night,” said Lydia, shivering in memory.
    “In the day it is lovely,” I said. “We ought to make the most of it. It’s odd to think I shall not be coming back.”
    “Shall you mind?” asked Monique.
    “I shall miss you all.”
    “And you will be with that wonderful aunt,” said Frieda enviously.
    “And you’ll be rich,” said Elsa, “and independent too, for you will own that school and the wonderful old Manor House.”
    “No, no. Not for years. I’d have it when Aunt Patty dies and I’d never want that.”
    Elsa nodded. “Well,” she said, “if you don’t want to go to Pilcher’s Peak I’ll tell some of the others.”
    “Why don’t we go?” said Lydia. “Is it tomorrow…the full moon?”
    “We could take the wagonette.”
    “We could say we wanted to see some of the wild flowers in the forest.”
    “Do you think we should be permitted? Wild flowers are scarcely a topic for the drawing rooms of the elite. And what wild flowers are there at this time of the year?”
    “We could think of something else,” said Lydia.
    Nobody could, however, and the harder we thought the more enticing a trip to Pilcher’s Peak became.
    “I know,” said Elsa at length, “you are going into the town to select a pair of gloves for Cordelia’s aunt. She was so impressed by those Cordelia came home with and of course they can’t make such gloves…so chic, so right…anywhere but in Switzerland. That will seem very plausible to Madame. Then the wagonette instead of going into the town turns off and goes into the forest. It is only two miles. You could ask for extended time as you wish to call into the patisserie for a cup of coffee and one of those cream gâteau which can only be found in Switzerland. I am sure permission would be granted, and that will give you time to go to the forest and sit under the lovers’ oak tree.”
    “What perfidy!” I cried. “What if Madame de Guérin knew that you were corrupting us? You’d be turned out to wander in the snowy mountains.”
    Elsa put the palms of her hands together as though in prayer. “I beg you do not betray me. It is only a joke. I wish to put a little romance into your lives.”
    I laughed with the others. “Well, why shouldn’t we go? Tell us what we do, Elsa.”
    “You sit under the oak. You can’t fail to see it. It’s there below the Peak. You just sit there and talk together…just naturally, you know. Then if you are lucky, your future husband will appear.”
    “One between four of us!” cried Monique.
    “Perhaps more…who can say? But if one comes that is enough to show you there is something in our legend, eh?”
    “It’s ridiculous,” said Frieda.
    “It will be somewhere to go,” added Monique.
    “Our last little outing before winter comes,” said Lydia.
    “Who knows? It may start tomorrow.”
    “Then too late for Cordelia,” Lydia reminded us. “Oh, Cordelia, do persuade Aunt Patty to let you stay another year.”
    “Two is really enough to put the polish on. I must be positively gleaming already.”
    We laughed awhile and we decided that on the following afternoon we would go to Pilcher’s Peak.
    ***
    It was a clear afternoon when we set out. The sun made it as warm as spring and we were in high spirits as the wagonette turned off from the road to the town and took us up to the forest. The air was clear and crisp and the snow sparkled on the distant mountaintops. I could smell the pungency of the pines which made up most of the forest, but there were among the evergreens some oaks, and it was one of these which we had to look for.
    We asked the driver about Pilcher’s Peak and he told us we couldn’t miss it. He’d show us when