Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8 by Patricia Hagan Page A

you…again?” Elenore boldly taunted as she walked over to pull the drapery cord, flooding the room with light. “God, how do you stand it in the dark all the time?”
    “I like it! It’s my room. I’ll do as I wish, and I won’t put up with your insolence.” Amalia hurried to close the drapes, cursing herself for what must be the thousandth time for ever having confided to Elenore about those horrible nightmares in which she thought she saw Ilsa standing at the foot of her bed. Elenore had just laughed and said it was her conscience bothering her because of the way she’d treated her. Amalia had not been able to make her or Rudolf understand that their grandmother had to be locked away for her own protection, because her mind was gone.
    “Where have you been?” Amalia demanded. “I’ve been calling you for hours.”
    “Walking.”
    “Indeed.”
    Elenore threw up her hands. “Oh, why do I even bother answering your questions, Mother? You never believe me, anyway.”
    “That’s your own fault. I can tell when you’re lying, and you’re lying when you say you don’t know anything about this ‘special friend’ of Rudolf’s. I want to know who she is and what makes her so ‘special’,” she added with a sneer.
    “Who says it’s a ‘she’?”
    Amalia glared at her incredulously. “Do you take me for a fool? Rudolf would never make such a long journey for one of his new, fanatical men friends.” She nodded smugly when she saw the look of surprise on Elenore’s face. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard the rumors about you two keeping company with political zealots. The servants hear gossip and they pass it all along to me.
    “But that’s not the point for the moment,” she went on, waving her hand to dismiss that particular subject. “Believe me, I’ll take all that up with you and your brother later, because we’re going to start cultivating a normal life around here. You’re going to make some kind of social debut, no matter how difficult, what with the war going on. It’s time to present you as an eligible young lady, because the sooner I find a husband for you, the better. And Rudolf is going to continue his studies.”
    She walked over to shake her finger beneath Elenore’s nose as she glared at her menacingly. “You are going to tell me where Rudolf has gone, and you are also going to tell me everything you know about the little bitch he has gone to see, or so help me, I’ll call Vincent and have you locked in the same room where your crazy grandmother died till you feel like talking. I’m not bluffing, Elenore. I mean what I say.”
    Elenore realized her mother was, indeed, serious. If her mother ordered the big, hulking gardener to drag her off to the basement, there would be no way she could stop him, and she would be kept there till Rudolf returned. He was due back any day, according to his original plans, but there was always a chance he might be delayed.
    “I’m waiting!” Amalia snapped.
    Elenore knew confinement would mean not being able to sneak out to be with Cord—an unbearable thought. No matter that she had sworn not to tell, since Rudolf wanted to be the one to break the news about Marilee. She was not about to be held prisoner just to keep a promise.
    With a ragged sigh of defeat, she declared, “She’s not a bitch, Mother.”
    “Aha!” Amalia cried in gleeful triumph. “So I was right. Rudolf sneaked away because he was too ashamed to be breaking his promise that he would never get involved with a woman. He knows as well as I do there’s no room in his life for anything except his music, not for a long, long time. Now, tell me everything.”
    Elenore flashed a venomous glare, and Amalia responded by slapping her.
    “Talk, damn you, or you’ll live to regret it!”
    Elenore’s cheek stung, but she was too proud to cry. Biting back the tears of humiliation and pain, she hoarsely whispered, “What is it you want to know? I’m not privy to what goes on inside