"Ardath Mayhar - The Clarrington Heritage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mayhar Ardath)

herself and her doubts of her own mind's stability into Clarrington House. Of
the large family that had lived and laughed and quarreled there, she was the
sole survivor, and for ten years she had lived alone with her memories and her
fears.
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CHAPTER 2: THE PARLOR
Of all the doors in the house, except for those of her own suite, the
one that opened into the parlor was the only one leading into untainted
happiness. Marise always cleaned that room first, when she began tending the
house. She might be mad, but she was not going to become dirty, as well.
Now she pushed her cart of cleaning things to one side and fumbled in
her pocket for the key to the double-leaved door. Even as she pushed it into
the lock, she paused, remembering...
It had been, at least partly, the way Marise had speculated it might
be. Their telegram, sent hastily as they set out for Channing and Ben's home,
had arrived when most of the family was away.
Father Clarrington, the nurse, and Aunt Linda had taken Mother
Clarrington to the Mayo Clinic for extensive tests, leaving only Hannibal,
Ben's brother, there with Hildy and her husband. But Hannibal had been called
to the state capital, where he had a case coming before the state supreme
court.
The telegram reached only Hildy. The cook had, Marise now knew,
prepared the lovely room on the second floor for the newlyweds, ordering fresh
flowers, cleaning everything spotlessly. That had been lovingly done, for
Hildy was as much a part of the family as those born into it.
One question plagued Marise, as she made ready to meet her new family,
who had, on their return, assembled in the parlor to greet Ben and his new
wife. Who had destroyed that room?
Only the servants were in the house, and Hildy had been the one to make
ready the bridal chamber. The rest of the family were gone, provably absent.
This was not a house into which any chance prowler or vagrant could possibly
find a way without leaving distinct traces of breaking and entering.
The solid front door was always locked, and that lock was not as old
fashioned as the house. It could have been used in a prison. The iron fence
ran all the way around the five enclosed acres of gardens and grounds. The
front, back, and side gates were locked, and the spear-points topping the
barrier were not merely ornamental. They would be dangerous to anyone trying
to climb over.
Who could possibly have done violence to that room she had been
intended to share with Ben?
But she had not been intended to see it -- not after Ben knew what had
happened there. She could never ask him or anyone else, without betraying the
fact that she had seen. Over the years, she had worried over the question like
a dog with a bone, wondering without knowing.
But on that first day after the rest of the family came she had
inspected her makeup, fastened the modest pearl clips at her ears, and stood
back to make sure the new dress, her first designer gown, fell in the same
elegant lines she remembered from the fitting room. She wanted to look
wonderful for her new in-laws, even though she was not beautiful and never had
particularly wanted to be, except in Ben's eyes.