Read Online Hall of Secrets (A Benedict Hall Novel) by Cate Campbell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cate Campbell
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Allison’s left, and directly opposite her, at Aunt Edith’s right hand, one chair remained empty, though the place was set with a charger and a full complement of flatware and crystal.
Allison knew what it was, because the twins had told Ruby, and Ruby, unusually animated by the tidbit of gossip, had whispered it to her before her first dinner at Benedict Hall. The empty chair had been Cousin Preston’s, set at his usual place at the table, on his mother’s right hand. When Uncle Dickson had asked the maids to remove it, Ruby reported, Aunt Edith had screamed and wept, and slapped at the maids’ hands until everyone was in tears.
It was hard not to stare at that empty chair with its plum-colored brocade and scrolled frame, and watching the maids remove the charger and unused silverware after each course made Allison’s skin crawl. No one else seemed to pay any attention. She supposed they were used to it, but it made her feel as if she were sitting opposite a ghost.
She wished Cousin Margot would sit there, instead, so she could take a good look at her. She was younger than Allison remembered. She wore the simplest of dinner dresses, just dark green wool, with a V-neck collar and a pleated skirt that fell to the middle of her calves. She wore no jewelry at all, and she certainly didn’t have a stethoscope around her neck! Allison wondered where she kept it. Cousin Margot was no model of chic, but her hair was neatly shingled in back, and hung in straight, shining curves under her chin. Clearly, she didn’t need pomade to wrestle her hair into the style she wanted. Allison suspected she wouldn’t have bothered if she did, and probably no one could nag her, a doctor, about how to wear her hair or what dress to put on.
The two redheaded maids began serving a soup course that tasted strongly of onions. Allison tasted it, to be polite, before she laid down her spoon and folded her hands in her lap. She felt Cousin Margot’s eyes assessing her from the side. Those eyes seemed to look right through a person. They were dark, like her older brother’s and her father’s, but they had a sort of gleam to them, as if she had one of those new X-ray things built right into her head. Allison resisted a foolish impulse to put up her hand to block Margot’s gaze.
Ramona said brightly, “Margot, Cousin Allison was telling us last night about seeing the Eiffel Tower in Paris.”
“Did you like it?” Margot asked, forcing Allison to turn toward her. “Many do, I think.”
“Well, it is the tallest structure in the world,” Ramona said, before Allison could answer. “That makes it interesting.”
“And it has Otis elevators,” Uncle Dickson said. “Some French ones, too, but I’m told the American ones work much better.”
“Trust you to know that, Father,” Margot said.
Uncle Dickson chortled and waved his soupspoon. “American industry, daughter. It’s the best. Still, the tower is an achievement.”
“I suppose it is,” Margot said. “But I found it rather stark, in that city full of graceful old architecture.”
Adelaide had oohed and aahed over the Eiffel Tower. She had made Allison stand in line forever in the hot sun so the two of them could have their photograph taken in front of it. Allison thought at the time that was the reason she disliked it. Now, Cousin Margot had perfectly expressed her reaction. Allison had found the Eiffel Tower crude and somehow aggressive, with its dark lattices and clanking lifts and exaggerated point stabbing the sky. Of course she hadn’t said so. Her mother would have snapped at her that she didn’t know anything about architecture, which of course was true, or that she should respect the opinions of people who knew better. Allison often didn’t respect the opinions of people who were supposed to know better, but she had learned not to say so.
She found herself stuck now, not wanting to offend Ramona, but intrigued, and a bit confused, to find that
Allison knew what it was, because the twins had told Ruby, and Ruby, unusually animated by the tidbit of gossip, had whispered it to her before her first dinner at Benedict Hall. The empty chair had been Cousin Preston’s, set at his usual place at the table, on his mother’s right hand. When Uncle Dickson had asked the maids to remove it, Ruby reported, Aunt Edith had screamed and wept, and slapped at the maids’ hands until everyone was in tears.
It was hard not to stare at that empty chair with its plum-colored brocade and scrolled frame, and watching the maids remove the charger and unused silverware after each course made Allison’s skin crawl. No one else seemed to pay any attention. She supposed they were used to it, but it made her feel as if she were sitting opposite a ghost.
She wished Cousin Margot would sit there, instead, so she could take a good look at her. She was younger than Allison remembered. She wore the simplest of dinner dresses, just dark green wool, with a V-neck collar and a pleated skirt that fell to the middle of her calves. She wore no jewelry at all, and she certainly didn’t have a stethoscope around her neck! Allison wondered where she kept it. Cousin Margot was no model of chic, but her hair was neatly shingled in back, and hung in straight, shining curves under her chin. Clearly, she didn’t need pomade to wrestle her hair into the style she wanted. Allison suspected she wouldn’t have bothered if she did, and probably no one could nag her, a doctor, about how to wear her hair or what dress to put on.
The two redheaded maids began serving a soup course that tasted strongly of onions. Allison tasted it, to be polite, before she laid down her spoon and folded her hands in her lap. She felt Cousin Margot’s eyes assessing her from the side. Those eyes seemed to look right through a person. They were dark, like her older brother’s and her father’s, but they had a sort of gleam to them, as if she had one of those new X-ray things built right into her head. Allison resisted a foolish impulse to put up her hand to block Margot’s gaze.
Ramona said brightly, “Margot, Cousin Allison was telling us last night about seeing the Eiffel Tower in Paris.”
“Did you like it?” Margot asked, forcing Allison to turn toward her. “Many do, I think.”
“Well, it is the tallest structure in the world,” Ramona said, before Allison could answer. “That makes it interesting.”
“And it has Otis elevators,” Uncle Dickson said. “Some French ones, too, but I’m told the American ones work much better.”
“Trust you to know that, Father,” Margot said.
Uncle Dickson chortled and waved his soupspoon. “American industry, daughter. It’s the best. Still, the tower is an achievement.”
“I suppose it is,” Margot said. “But I found it rather stark, in that city full of graceful old architecture.”
Adelaide had oohed and aahed over the Eiffel Tower. She had made Allison stand in line forever in the hot sun so the two of them could have their photograph taken in front of it. Allison thought at the time that was the reason she disliked it. Now, Cousin Margot had perfectly expressed her reaction. Allison had found the Eiffel Tower crude and somehow aggressive, with its dark lattices and clanking lifts and exaggerated point stabbing the sky. Of course she hadn’t said so. Her mother would have snapped at her that she didn’t know anything about architecture, which of course was true, or that she should respect the opinions of people who knew better. Allison often didn’t respect the opinions of people who were supposed to know better, but she had learned not to say so.
She found herself stuck now, not wanting to offend Ramona, but intrigued, and a bit confused, to find that
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