Woman in Black Read Online Free Page A

neck, and little or no jewelry, her one good dress reserved for church and her only makeup the occasional touch of lipstick.
    â€œIt doesn’t seem to have hurt Lila any,” Abigail observed grumpily.
    Lila was popular with boys and girls alike. Never mind they were only six months apart in age, Abigail felt like a kid sister in comparison. A dorky kid sister, half a foot taller and with none of Lila’s social graces. If it hadn’t been dark when they’d stripped down last night, Vaughn probably wouldn’t have looked at her twice.
    â€œIt’s different for everyone,” Rosalie said gently, meaning that not everyone was as blessed as Lila.
    Abigail sighed. “It’s not fair.”
    Her mother’s expression settled into one of flat resignation. “Well, life’s not fair. The sooner you accept it, the better.” With that, she pushed her way through the swinging door into the stairwell beyond.
    When she returned a short while later, one look at her ashen face told Abigail that something was terribly wrong.
    Rosalie dropped into a chair at the table, burying her face in her hands.
    Abigail rushed to her side. “Mama! What is it? What’s happened?”
    Rosalie only shook her head, too distraught to reply.
    Was it Lila? Abigail wondered. Could she have suffered a fall while out riding? At the image of Lila lying crumpled on the ground, Abigail felt as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her . But the notion was quickly dispelled. “It’s … it’s Mrs. Meriwhether,” Rosalie said haltingly when she’d finally recovered her voice. “You know the diamond necklace Mr. Meriwhether gave her on their anniversary? Well, it’s missing. She … she seems to think I took it.” Rosalie lifted her head, and the look in her eyes was awful to behold, for Abigail saw more than the shock and horror of someone wrongly accused. She caught a furtive glint. There was more to the story than her mother was telling.
    Had her mother taken the necklace? Not intending to keep it, of course. Maybe she’d only borrowed it, planning to put it back before it was discovered to be missing. But even that was so completely out of character, Abigail immediately dismissed the idea. If her mother found so much as a nickel in a pants pocket while doing the laundry, she returned it. She would never have borrowed anything without asking, especially something so valuable.
    â€œShe must have misplaced it,” Abigail offered. “It’s got to be somewhere in the house. I’ll help her look for it.”
    She was turning to go when Rosalie seized hold of her wrist. “No! It’s too late for that.”
    Abigail eyed her in confusion. “Mama, what are you saying?”
    â€œThe police are on their way over.” Her mother’s eyes were like two holes burned in parchment.
    The police! Oh, God, this was more serious than she’d thought. All at once Abigail felt deeply afraid. The feeling that her mother was withholding some vital piece of information became stronger than ever. “Mama, what on earth is going on here? Whatever it is, I want to know. Please.”
    â€œYes, why don’t you tell her, Rosalie?”
    Abigail spun around at the sound of Gwen Meriwhether’s soft, lilting voice. Her mother’s employer stood in the doorway, dressed in a pink satin robe and matching slippers, her platinum hair, normally smoothed into a pageboy, sticking out in stiff clumps. Her face was pinched and grayish, the way it got when she was having one of her migraines. A fine-boned, aristocratic face that, however pretty it had been in her youth, showed the ravages of time and ill health. From this distance, Abigail could see its myriad of fine lines and the tiny broken veins that webbed her patrician nose like the cracked glaze on the Limoges teacup that had graced the tray so lovingly prepared by her housekeeper.
    Rosalie jerked to