Awaiting the Moon Read Online Free

Willkommen ,” she said, opening her arms wide and gesturing to the hall. “Welcome to Wolfram Castle. I hope you will be happy here, Miss Stanwycke. My brother is otherwise occupied at the moment, but I will see to your comfort.”
    A door slammed somewhere and a susurration of voices echoed in the upper heights of the hall, perhaps from somewhere along the gallery. But Elizabeth’s attention was caught by another door opening closer, the light streaming out chasing away the shadows under the second floor gallery and showing her that there were clearly rooms off the main hall, formal reception rooms perhaps, with gothic arched doors of heavy, deeply carved oak.
    One of these was the door that had opened and two men came from the room beyond—one of the gentleman older, with a paunch and a gray, balding pate, and the other tall and of middle years, distinguished and immaculately dressed.

    “Ah, what a pleasure,” one of the men, the older, balding fellow, said in heavily accented English as he approached them. “This must be our new little teacher, and of course my dear sister, Katrina. How long it has been!”
    He put out his arms to embrace her, but Frau Liebner merely stuck out one gloved hand and gruffly said, “ Tag , Bartol. Wie geht es ihnen ?”
    “Ah, you have not changed,” he said with a comical look of dismay on his round face.
    “Always, you are most cool,” he continued, waggling a finger at her. “But English, my sister, English, for I have been practicing; I had no English when you last saw me, but now… I speak so very well. We have a new little friend in our midst, and I would not exclude her.” He shook his sister-in-law’s hand and turned to Elizabeth. “Unless you speak German, my dear?”
    “A very little,” Elizabeth said, taking his offered hand.
    He tilted his head to one side and peered nearsightedly at her, as he cradled her hand in his large, knobby one. “So, you are the little teacher. How delightful you are, so pretty. We are fortunate indeed to have you in our midst.” He patted her hand and released it.
    Such a gracious welcome warmed Elizabeth, and she relaxed.
    Gräfin von Wolfram said, “This is Miss Elizabeth Stanwycke, Charlotte’s new tutor.
    Elizabeth, this is Herr Bartol Liebner, my uncle.” With a softening expression, she turned then to the taller of the two men, a distinguished and courtly looking gentleman of middle years.
    He had a mane of silvery white hair drawn back from a high forehead, and he was clad in a powder blue velvet jacket and silver knee breeches. “And this is Count Delacroix, our honored guest.”
    The gentleman cast her a fond look and turned to Elizabeth, taking her hand and bowing low over it. “Mademoiselle. I am only a poor émigré from the terrible revolt in my land.” He kissed the air an inch above her hand. “My lady, the Countess Adele is too kind, for it is I, an exile from my suffering land, who treasures my time in this gallant and stalwart place.”
    Elizabeth noticed a quickly concealed expression of concern on Gräfin von Wolfram’s gaunt face.
    “As I said, my brother is this minute busy,” the woman said, interrupting the Frenchman’s courtly gesture of welcome. “But he will presently greet you properly. Come, and I will see you settled in your rooms, Miss Stanwycke, Tante Katrina.”
    Her body trembling with exhaustion, her mind reeling from the last hour of strange happenings and this overwhelming welcome, Elizabeth wearily mounted the stairs, the stone steps worn in the center from centuries of feet, following Gräfin von Wolfram and Frau Liebner. They made it to the gallery floor, slowed by the oldest lady’s deliberate progress and the heaviness of their winter cloaks, but as they were about to mount the steps to the third-floor bedchambers—the lady of the house explaining that the second floor was taken up with family living areas since the main floor was formal reception rooms—a dark figure slammed