Maggie MacKeever Read Online Free

resigned. “And I should come under the gravest censure were I to turn her out.”
    “Pray, don’t distress yourself. It is a pity that the child should be so great a trial—”
    “She is my cross to bear,” Isolda interrupted. “But she is not precisely a child.”
    “I beg your pardon. If you wish, I could endeavor to tutor her in the niceties of polite behavior.” Though Loveday might hardly be considered the ideal instructor in such matters, she did know right conduct from wrong.  Furthermore, she was curious about the much-maligned Dillian.
    Isolda brightened perceptibly. “My dear girl, I should be exceedingly glad if you endeavored to instill Dillian with some awareness of the niceties. I’ll warrant you will find it a prodigious chore.”
    Loveday smiled, aware that her offer was precisely what Isolda had been angling for. “I promise you I shan’t allow myself to become overfatigued.”
    “I hope your optimism may be justified, but I think that even you may be shocked by Dillian’s lack of restraint.” Isolda fell briefly silent. “I have always deprecated the mystery of Dillian’s birth, although I consider she has turned out as well as could be expected. I don’t suppose you could cast any light upon the matter?”
    “I? How?”
    “I keep forgetting your loss of memory. You must excuse me, child. Averil’s father and grandfather were arguing about Dillian’s parentage the night they died. You’ve heard of that tragedy, I suppose?”
    Loveday nodded, distressed by the pain that was all too evident on Isolda’s face. “Mrs. Merryweather was on the coach with me. She mentioned the matter.”
    “Ah, yes, our dear Mrs. Merryweather. How that woman’s tongue does babble and flap! I will not ask what scandalous tales she repeated, although it is my understanding that the villagers believe my son, Everard, to have killed his father, then himself.” Isolda sighed. “The circumstances surrounding the occurrences do, unfortunately, lend themselves to such a theory; there was a quarrel, the details of which are unimportant now.”
    Loveday was rendered acutely uncomfortable by this glimpse into family history, and momentarily forgot her own perilous predicament. “Do not distress yourself, ma’am,” she protested.
    Isolda might not have heard. “Timothy was a just man,” she continued, her gaze fixed upon the past, “and I cannot see that he could have properly acted other than he did. I, naturally, do not believe that my husband was slain by our son, but I am in the minority. Nor am I certain that Everard fathered Dillian. Everard’s wife believed so, and was driven mad as a result.” Isolda’s tone conveyed her opinion of so spineless a creature.
    “Does she reside here also?” Loveday inquired, in an attempt to break the sudden silence.
    “Ermyntrude?” Isolda huffed. “The graceless creature couldn’t face the scandal; she fled. I would have expected her to spare some thought for her son, but Averil has done quite well without her. The villagers would have it that she died here, and several claim to have seen her ghost.  If the castle truly possessed as many ghosts as the villagers claim for it, the human inhabitants would find themselves sorely cramped for room!” The shrewd eyes alit again on Loveday. “Can you clarify our mystery, child? I would give much to see my son’s name cleared.”
    “But how could I be of help in this?”
    “My dear Loveday,” Isolda said, with an expression of strained patience, “you were in the room the night they died. Mrs. Snugglebutt and I found you the next morning, huddled under a blanket on the window-seat. It is not inconceivable that you can identify our faceless murderer.”
     

Chapter 2
     
    Loveday awakened to the sound ofbreakingchina. A rough country voice bewailed the accident.
    “You up and done it now. Prudence. The old crosspatch’ll right have your head for sure.” Loveday sat up to see a girl, presumably the