Free Come to Castlemoor by Jennifer Wilde Page B

friend—just a friend! They couldn’t understand that—”
    I thought she was going to cry, but she mastered her emotion. She clasped her hands in her lap and stared down at them. When she continued to speak, her voice was level, carefully controlled. “I don’t know what happened to him. There was no way I could contact him. I—I wanted him to know how sorry I was. But—he just vanished. He stayed in Darkmead for three or four days, then—just left. No one knows where he went. I think about Jamie a lot.”
    There was a rumble of thunder in the distance. The clouds were moving slowly across the sky, and dark shadows moved across the moors at the same pace. Duchess whined, burrowing her head in Nicola’s lap. Duke stood before us with his silver-gray body stiff, his eyes alert. Nicola seemed to be lost in thought. She crooned softly to Duchess, stroking the dog’s head and rubbing its ears.
    â€œTell me about yourself,” she said abruptly.
    â€œWhat would you like to hear?”
    â€œAbout you—your life.”
    I gave her a brief résumé of my life. I told her about the years with Aunt Clarice, about the apartment Donald had found for us, about the work I had helped him with. I talked about the excitement of London—the streets, the theaters, the parties. She listened with her elbow on her knee, her chin propped in her palm, her eyes filled with longing.
    â€œHow I’d like that,” she said quietly. “Being free, being able to do just what I liked.”
    â€œI always thought it would be rather nice to live in a castle,” I said airily. “Do you sleep in a tower?”
    â€œMy room’s downstairs,” she said. “Near the stairs that lead down to the dungeons.”
    â€œThat sounds exciting,” I replied. “Imagine having real dungeons! I would love to explore them.”
    Nicola looked grim, unresponsive to my humoring. “They’re horrible,” she said. “Dark and damp and—I don’t go down there. I did, and I heard something—” She drew herself up, fighting back the tremulous emotion in her voice. “It was another nightmare. Buck found me. He told me I hadn’t heard anything. Dorothea gave me a sedative and sent for the doctor. They put me to bed and thought I was asleep—and they talked about me. I’m not sick—”
    â€œEveryone has nightmares—” I began.
    â€œI’m not sick,” she continued, “but I let them think so. It’s easier that way.”
    â€œWhat—what do you mean?”
    â€œExactly what I said.”
    She looked at me with eyes that were perfectly lucid. There was a hard set to her mouth, and I felt for the first time that she was actually communicating with me. The skittish, nervous girl had gone. The Nicola who stared at me now was intelligent, alert, almost formidable. I felt a cold chill pass over me, and I was afraid. What had she seen? What could possibly have happened to give a seventeen-year-old girl that hard, defensive look? I started to reach for her hand, but she drew away from me, standing up and brushing her yellow-white skirt. I felt she had been on the verge of telling me something of paramount importance, but the moment had passed, and she was lost to me again. I stood up too, frowning.
    â€œI’d better go,” the girl said quietly.
    â€œI—I hope you’ll come to visit me at the house. Nicola.”
    She shook her head. “I won’t be able to do that,” she said, her eyes averted. “They don’t like for me to—to talk to people. I’ve talked too much. I shouldn’t have talked—” She looked at me, and there was a pleading quality in her voice. “Don’t pay any attention to me. I—I just wanted to meet you. I didn’t mean—”
    â€œNicola—”
    â€œI have to go back now. Buck’ll be furious when he