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Authors: Philippa Carr

The Pool of St. Branok (74 page)

BOOK: The Pool of St. Branok
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I just know that she was with me … urging me to act.

I was wide awake. The room was silent. The child was still sleeping beside me. I could see the shapes of the furniture in the pale moonlight.

I got out of bed and put on my dressing gown and slippers.

“Where are you, Mama … dearest Mama, where are you?” I whispered.

There was no answer.

I went to the window and looked out. There was moonlight on the sea; I listened to the silence all around me, broken only by the gentle swishing of the waves.

I could not stay in my room. Some impulse made me go to the door. I looked out. All was quiet. I went down the great staircase to the hall.

There was the Christmas tree … an object of tragedy now. The burned-down candles… the symbol of tragedy. I sat down beside it and covered my face with my hands.

“Come back,” I murmured. “Come back, Mama. You did come back … for a while.”

And as I sat there, I heard a soft footfall on the stairs. I looked up eagerly. It was my grandmother coming into the hall.

“Rebecca,” she said. “I thought I heard someone moving about. What are you doing down here?”

“I … I couldn’t sleep.”

She came and sat beside me. She took my hand. “My dear child,” she said. “I know what you feel.”

“It’s the child,” I said. “There is something I must do.”

“Tell me.”

“I want to take her. I want her to come here … not as the child of a servant. I want her to be here with us … I just feel that is what must be.”

My grandmother nodded.

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Yes. And she is all alone now. What will become of her … some workhouse … an orphanage? Oh no, I couldn’t bear it. Something happened, Granny. Upstairs just now … it was as though my mother came to me.”

“Oh, my dear …”

“Was I dreaming? I don’t know. I thought she was in the room. I thought she was telling me what to do.”

“It was your heart telling you, Rebecca.”

“I don’t know. But I have to do it. I don’t care if no one will help me. I am going to look after Lucie.”

“What do you mean … if no one will help you? You know we’ll help you.”

I turned to her and she took me into her arms.

“Rebecca, you are a dear child and I’m proud of you. We will take her in. She shall share the nursery with Belinda. Belinda owes her that, doesn’t she?”

“What of Belinda, Granny?”

“She is a normal highspirited child. She meant no harm. Leah says she has been crying bitterly. It was just a game to her. She did not understand what fire could do.”

“Then she has learned a lesson tonight … a bitter one. And at what cost to poor Jenny and Lucie!”

My grandmother said: “Rebecca, it is the least we can do … if only for the sake of Jenny who, without a moment’s hesitation, gave her own life to save the child’s.”

“You always understood me.”

She stood up suddenly as though afraid of her emotion.

“It’s chilly,” she said. “We should get back to bed. Besides … what if Lucie should wake.”

“I should be there to comfort her. I always will be, Granny. I always will.”

I went to my room. Lucie was sleeping peacefully. I had a feeling that there was a presence there … my mother … and that she was pleased.

COPYRIGHT

Copyright © 1987 by Philippa Carr

All rights reserved.

Cover Design by Jason Gabbert

ISBN: 978-1480403802

This 2013 edition distributed by Open Road Integrated Media

180 Varick Street

New York, NY 10014

www.openroadmedia.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

BOOK: The Pool of St. Branok
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