Free Promise Me Tomorrow by Candace Camp Page B

stern. “She is only nine years old.”
    “I know. That’s what makes it so amazing. I’d ‘a thought she was much older, the way she played.”
    Marianne smiled. “Well, in the future, please, could you teach her something besides gambling games? And don’t teach her any of your tricks, either.”
    Betsy widened her eyes innocently. “Tricks? Why would I teach the child any tricks?”
    “You taught me one last week,” Rosalind pointed out. “You know, about how if you prick the ace with a pin, you can feel it as you deal, but it doesn’t show, and—”
    “Betsy! That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
    Betsy shrugged. “Well, of course, if that’s what you want. But it seems to me that a girl can always use a leg up, if you know what I mean.”
    Shaking her head, Marianne resumed the lesson. It was useless, she knew, to try to get Betsy to understand the desire she had for Rosalind to lead a normal life. She didn’t know how she was going to achieve it, but Marianne was determined that Rosalind grow up not knowing poverty and want and lack of love—or the fear of living outside the law.
    The rest of the lesson passed without incident, for Rosalind wanted no delays for her afternoon treat: Piers had promised to take her to fly kites. Promptly after dinner, they set off, and Marianne, faced with the prospect of an afternoon free, decided to visit the lending library.
    It was one of her favorite things to do. She loved to read, a habit that everyone else in the house found a trifle odd. She was used to that attitude. All the children in the orphanage had found it even stranger. She had hidden her reading from everyone at the Quartermaine house, sneaking books out of the library in the Hall and spending her entire afternoon off reading in a special place she liked to go down by the brook. When she moved to London and started living with Harrison and Della, she had discovered the joys of a lending library.
    So she tied her bonnet beneath her chin and set off. When she was a half block from the lending library, she saw a young lady walking toward her, trailed properly by her maid. As she drew closer, she recognized the young woman’s features.
    “Miss Castlereigh!” Marianne was surprised by the quiet leap of pleasure she felt upon seeing the woman she had met the night before.
    Penelope, who had been walking along with her eyes down, glanced up, and a smile lit her face. “Mrs. Cotterwood! What a pleasant surprise.”
    “Yes. Isn’t it? I was just on my way to the lending library.” Marianne looked at the book Penelope carried. “It looks as though that is where you have been.”
    “Yes, it is.” Penelope’s smile grew wider. “Do you enjoy reading, too?”
    “Oh, yes,” Marianne confessed. “It is my favorite pastime.”
    “Really? Me, too.” Penelope looked delighted at finding a fellow bibliophile. “Mama calls me a bookworm. But books are so much more…exciting than real life. Don’t you think?” Her eyes shone behind her spectacles. “I am quite addicted to the gothic sort of books, with mad monks and haunted castles and evil counts. One never finds that sort of thing in real life.”
    “No.” Marianne dimpled. “Though I expect we should not enjoy it so much if it really happened to us.”
    “I’m sure you are right.” They stood for a few minutes, chatting about their favorite books. Then Penelope reached out a hand impulsively and touched Marianne’s arm. “Do come visit me, won’t you? We can talk about books and such. I would love for you to meet my friend Nicola, as well. I am sure you would like her.” She hesitated uncertainly. “I—I hope I’m not too forward.”
    “Goodness, no. I would be delighted to come.” It was an opportunity that Marianne would not dream of passing up, but she knew that she would have agreed even if it had helped her not at all. She liked this shy girl, and it was an unusual pleasure for her to get to talk to someone about