"Andrews, V C - The Casteels 02 - Dark Angel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Andrews V.C)

home, that's all I had in m d Going to where it's better, prettier,
where in or later I'll feel truly welcomed. My dream was happening too
fast for me to drink in the impressions. I wanted to save and savor all
of first ride to wherever they were taking me, and nder the memories
later, when I was alone. To- alone in a strange house. Better thoughts
came. wait until I write and tell Tom about my beautiful nd mother He'll
never believe someone so old d look so young. And my sister Fanny would
be so ous! If only I could call Logan, who was only a few les away,
living in some big college dorm. But I hold en gullible and naive enough
to fall for Cal Denon's seduction. Logan didn't want me now. He ld no
doubt hang up if I phoned him. I hen, as the driver made a right turn,
Jillian began ramble on and on about the plans she would soon to
entertain me. "And we always make Christa special event, we go all out,
so to speak." I knew. She was telling me in her own way I ld stay
through Christmas. And it was only early October but October had
always been a bittersweet month: goodbye to summer and all the bright
and happy things; wait now for winter, for all the cold and bleak and
stark things.

Why was I thinking like this? Winter wouldn't be cold and bleak in a
fine rich house. There would be plenty of fuel oil, or coal or firewood,
or electric heat, whatever, I'd be warm enough. By the time Christmas
had come and gone, I'd have added so much fun to their lonely household,
neither one would want me to go. No they wouldn't. They'd need me oh,
God, let them need me! Miles passed, and to lift my spirits and my
confidence, suddenly a brilliant sun peeked through the dreary clouds.
Trees in vivid autumn colors lit up, and I believed God was going to
shine his light on me after all. Hope sprang into my heart. I was going
to love New England. It looked so much like the Williesonly without the
mountains and the shacks. "We'll soon be there," said Tony, lightly
touching my hand. "Turn your head to the right and look for a break in
the tree line. The first glimpse of Farthinggale Manor is a sight to
remember." A house with a name! Impressed, I turned to him and smiled.
"Is it as grand as it sounds, is it?"

Every bit as grand," he answered somberly. "My home means a great deal
to me. It was built by my great-great-great-grandfather, and every first
son who takes it over improves it." Jillian snorted, as if contemptuous
of his home. But I was excited, eager to be impressed. With great
anticipation I leaned forward and watched for the break in the trees. It
came soon after. The chauffeur made the turn onto a private road marked
by high, ught-iron gates that arched overhead and spelled OlIT with
ornate embellishments Farthinggale Manor.

I gasped just to see the gates, the imps and fairies an gnomes that
peeked between the iron leaves. "The Tattertons affectionately refer to
our ancestral lion ie as Farthy," informed Tony with nostalgia in his
voice. "I used to think when I was a boy there wasn't a house anywhere
in the world as fine as the one where I lived. Of course there are many
that exceed Farthy, b t in my mind. When I was seven I was sent ut no to