The Book of Bones Read Online Free Page A

here we all were, cold, crushed together and jolted. Huddled between Rachel and Isaac I recalled the old legends that told of great beasts that roamed the moor, of highwaymenwho preyed on unguarded travelers. I shivered a little. But I got no sympathy from my friends. Indeed the atmosphere inside the coach was as thick as fog. I could have choked on the dark looks, misunderstandings and ill humor wafting around. Both Waldo and Rachel were furious with your friend Kit Salter, and had declared they would never speak to me again. Rachel had been especially hurtful.
    â€œYou know what your problem is, Kit?” she had spat. “Apart from being downright domineering, of course. Jealousy. Don’t look so surprised. J.E.A.L.O.U.S.Y. You don’t like your friends having other friends. You want to be number one the whole time.”
    The silence in the coach left me plenty of time to reflect on Rachel’s words. Uncomfortably, I had to admit that there might be some small element of truth in what she was saying. But minuscule. Really very small. Truly!
    As neither Waldo nor Rachel was talking to me, and Isaac was lost in his own (possibly explosive) thoughts, I turned to Mrs. Glee, who was crocheting a hideous pink bonnet.
    â€œMerriford House was splendid,” I said. “So gloomy. All that wind whistling down the chimneys.”
    â€œLovely,” she agreed, with a vacant smile. “I’m so happy for Miss Minchin. Marrying a baronet’s son. Usually sweet fortune does not smile upon poor governesses.”
    There was a wistful look in her green eyes as she said this. I wanted to take her hand and squeeze it to give her a little courage. Life, I guessed, had not been kind to Mrs. Glee. You could see her own misfortunes in the lines on her face and in the anxiety with which she greeted everything. She did try, our poor new governess, but she just wasn’t strong enough for this world.
    I had never found out about Mr. Glee. I was tempted to try a little probing.
    â€œDo you miss Mr. Glee very much?” I asked.
    To my surprise she went rigid.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œSorry?”
    â€œWhy do you ask?”
    â€œI just wondered. I thought—”
    Mrs. Glee was biting her lip “He was a brute, Kitty, a brute.”
    I didn’t know what to say. This conversation wasn’t going as I’d imagined. She sounded so fierce.
    â€œI didn’t know,” I muttered lamely.
    â€œNot a day goes by, not a single day, when I don’t give thanks that I am rid of him.”
    There was silence after this. The four horses pulling our coach labored in front of us. All that could be heard was their panting and snorting and the fierce whoosh of the wind outside. I was wearing a thick navy travelingcloak over my serge dress, but I was still chilled. Inside and out. There were so many mysteries about our new governess—her anger as well as her suffering. Everything seemed to make her fearful. Why had Mrs. Glee turned down the quick and modern train? Dark shapes loomed against the gray darkness of the moor. Wind-blasted trees, the occasional wretched cottage. I wondered that the horses were able to canter so fast, avoiding potholes in the dusk.
    The coach stopped with a jolt. Rachel was thrown against Waldo and screeched. Isaac’s glasses fell off as the horses began to neigh, a high terrifying sound. Odd noises were louder in the silence of the moor: the driver Hodges shouting, the crack of a whip and then another deep voice intermingled with scuffling. I peered through the window but could see only dark shapes through the smudgy pane.
    â€œWhat’s up?” I yelped, leaping into action. “Hodges?”
    â€œStand back.” Waldo pushed me down.
    â€œHighwaymen!” Isaac shrieked.
    â€œIt’s nothing, you booby!” Waldo snapped. “Probably just some drunk on the track.”
    Mrs. Glee was the only one not caught up in the commotion. She had