voice is scratchy when he speaks again. “I am theone who is thankful to have you here with us, Annabel. But we are not the only family you have. Someday soon, we shall have to take a trip to France. Our family seat is there, and we go back many generations.”
I give him a smile and he raises his glass to me. His eyes still look sad, though, so I pick up my book again. “Shall we do another zodiac year? When is Father’s birth date?”
“December first, 1792. I remember it as if it were yesterday.
The Farmer’s Almanac
predicted twelve feet of snow, and it was right.”
He continues to speak as I look up Father’s birth date. December 1, 1792 is the Year of the Rat. A sinking feeling fills my stomach. My father is a rat, and I am a horse. It is no wonder he continues to be disappointed with me.
We are destined to be mortal enemies.
The clock strikes three times, and suddenly, Grand-père stops speaking. A nervous look passes over his face. He quickly drains the rest of his brandy and sets the glass down. “I did not realize how late the hour has grown. We shall have to continue this another time. Come, my dear, I’ll walk you to the stairs.”
The room tips to one side as I stand, but Grand-pèregives me his arm and carries the lamp. As we go back out to the great room, I see a shadow moving toward the dining room. “What’s—”
I turn my head to look, but nothing is there.
Grand-père glances at me. “Is something the matter?”
I stare into the darkness. “I thought I saw something. My eyes must be playing tricks on me.”
“Yes, yes. That must be it.” He urges me toward the staircase, then hands me the lamp. “Here you are now. Up to bed with you. I don’t want to be the cause of your losing any more sleep.”
“Time spent with you is surely worth any amount of lost sleep, Grand-père. Thank you for sitting with me.”
“The pleasure was mine, my dear. Though perhaps it would be best for you to take some biscuits at breakfast in the morning to keep in your room in case you feel ill again. You should not be down here so late at night. The house can get … rather chilly.”
“Of course, Grand-père.”
He bids me good night and returns to his study. I take several steps up the stairs, then come to a stop.
I should go apologize to him. Clearly, I should not have been
wandering so late at night on my own
.
But when I turn around, Grand-père is standing outside the study doors with his back to me. He glances over at the dining room. And nods to the shadow that I thought I had only imagined.
Seven
W ith my head full of strange thoughts, I walk slowly up the stairs.
What’s going on in this house? Why are there mysterious shadows at night, and clandestine deliveries in the courtyard? What made Grand-père so nervous and why did Madame LaFleur say she did not want to be associated with Father?
It isn’t until I’ve settled beneath the covers once again that I realize I’ve forgotten Mother’s book downstairs.
Leaving the lamp behind, I instead take one of the candles from the hallway to light my path downstairs.When I reach Grand-père’s study, the doors are closed but I hear a faint noise from my left. The dining room door is slightly ajar, and I approach it slowly. Placing my ear against the solid wood, I hear a thump. And then another. Then voices.
I back away. The voices are getting louder. They’re right on the other side of the door now, and it sounds as if whoever is there is going to come through at any moment.
I glance over at the stairs. I don’t think I’ll have enough time to reach them. The door will open any moment and I will surely be seen. A long hallway to my left offers another chance at escape, and even though I have not been in that section of the house, I have no choice. I’m going to be discovered if I stay here.
I hurry down the hallway only to come to a set of double doors. Struggling to pull one open, I finally slip behind it. The room I find
I give him a smile and he raises his glass to me. His eyes still look sad, though, so I pick up my book again. “Shall we do another zodiac year? When is Father’s birth date?”
“December first, 1792. I remember it as if it were yesterday.
The Farmer’s Almanac
predicted twelve feet of snow, and it was right.”
He continues to speak as I look up Father’s birth date. December 1, 1792 is the Year of the Rat. A sinking feeling fills my stomach. My father is a rat, and I am a horse. It is no wonder he continues to be disappointed with me.
We are destined to be mortal enemies.
The clock strikes three times, and suddenly, Grand-père stops speaking. A nervous look passes over his face. He quickly drains the rest of his brandy and sets the glass down. “I did not realize how late the hour has grown. We shall have to continue this another time. Come, my dear, I’ll walk you to the stairs.”
The room tips to one side as I stand, but Grand-pèregives me his arm and carries the lamp. As we go back out to the great room, I see a shadow moving toward the dining room. “What’s—”
I turn my head to look, but nothing is there.
Grand-père glances at me. “Is something the matter?”
I stare into the darkness. “I thought I saw something. My eyes must be playing tricks on me.”
“Yes, yes. That must be it.” He urges me toward the staircase, then hands me the lamp. “Here you are now. Up to bed with you. I don’t want to be the cause of your losing any more sleep.”
“Time spent with you is surely worth any amount of lost sleep, Grand-père. Thank you for sitting with me.”
“The pleasure was mine, my dear. Though perhaps it would be best for you to take some biscuits at breakfast in the morning to keep in your room in case you feel ill again. You should not be down here so late at night. The house can get … rather chilly.”
“Of course, Grand-père.”
He bids me good night and returns to his study. I take several steps up the stairs, then come to a stop.
I should go apologize to him. Clearly, I should not have been
wandering so late at night on my own
.
But when I turn around, Grand-père is standing outside the study doors with his back to me. He glances over at the dining room. And nods to the shadow that I thought I had only imagined.
Seven
W ith my head full of strange thoughts, I walk slowly up the stairs.
What’s going on in this house? Why are there mysterious shadows at night, and clandestine deliveries in the courtyard? What made Grand-père so nervous and why did Madame LaFleur say she did not want to be associated with Father?
It isn’t until I’ve settled beneath the covers once again that I realize I’ve forgotten Mother’s book downstairs.
Leaving the lamp behind, I instead take one of the candles from the hallway to light my path downstairs.When I reach Grand-père’s study, the doors are closed but I hear a faint noise from my left. The dining room door is slightly ajar, and I approach it slowly. Placing my ear against the solid wood, I hear a thump. And then another. Then voices.
I back away. The voices are getting louder. They’re right on the other side of the door now, and it sounds as if whoever is there is going to come through at any moment.
I glance over at the stairs. I don’t think I’ll have enough time to reach them. The door will open any moment and I will surely be seen. A long hallway to my left offers another chance at escape, and even though I have not been in that section of the house, I have no choice. I’m going to be discovered if I stay here.
I hurry down the hallway only to come to a set of double doors. Struggling to pull one open, I finally slip behind it. The room I find
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