Plague Land by S D Sykes

Author:S D Sykes [Sykes, S D]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2014-09-24T16:00:00+00:00

That night I sneaked back to the graveyard to tell Alison that our sister was found. It was still and quiet as I whispered into the soil.

Did I hear her sigh?

Or was it just the slither of a snake in the long grass?

Chapter Thirteen

If the eve of Clemence’s wedding was marred by the discovery of a murdered girl, then the morning of the day itself was no more auspicious. The rain, which had kept away for a week, arrived in a fierce deluge, with so strong a downpour that a loose tile gave way on the roof of the great hall, causing water to fall onto the fire.

Mother insisted Gilbert climb up and replace the tile despite the heaviness of the rainstorm. He scrambled across the roof cursing and blaspheming, while the Peverils sat below on a bench, looking as disgusted as a row of Mother Superiors. Had they never heard the coarse language of a servant before? Mother assured me their sneers were testimony to the nobility of their French blood, and reminded me of this breeding were I to marry into the family. But one look at Geraldine’s conceited face was enough to convince me I would never take this girl as my wife. No matter how superior her family claimed to be.

After the tile was replaced, Mother retired to the solar to soothe my sister’s brain by combing her hair. Clemence was said to be suffering from a headache, but given the screams and scolding that could then be heard about the house, it was evident Mother’s treatment was neither gratefully received, nor working. The rest of us waited in the great hall, uneasy and embarrassed.

To avoid conversing with my aunt Hillary, a woman who liked to grill me in Latin gerunds, I made for the kitchen to watch Gilbert preparing for the wedding feast. The smell of wheat bread slipped out from the ovens and filled the room with a warm sweet aroma, which put me in mind of previous feasts held in the great hall – particularly the lavish banquets given by my father. They had been great celebrations of our family’s status and wealth. The tables spread with spiced meats, peaches and pears, cakes decorated in elaborate sugar creations, cheeses from every corner of England, and wines from France and Italy. Now the most exotic offering to our guests was white bread.

I might have wanted to hide away in the kitchen, but I was not welcome there. Not only was my presence distracting for the servants, but Gilbert had not forgiven me regarding the grave in the forest. He threw me hostile glances and crossed himself repeatedly until I left the chamber and went instead to wait by the gatehouse, in the hope that Brother Peter would miraculously return in time for the wedding.

The shadow of the headless body hung over me like a pall, and it was impossible to uphold the pretence of joy at Clemence’s union that Mother had firmly instructed me to maintain.

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