"Ashley, Amanda - Midnight Embrace" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ashley Amanda)

Dr. Martinson withdrew a handful of currency and a few coins from the envelope and dropped them into her hands, then folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.
"It seems you've found a benefactor," he remarked, handing her the envelope.
She looked at the money in her hands, then up at the doctor. "How much do I owe you?"
"Not a thing, Analisa. Your bill has been paid for. Please take care of yourself."
"Paid for? But how? WhoЧ"
"Lord Avallone has settled your account, and made a most generous donation to our hospital.
"But who is this Lord Avallone? Why should he wish to provide for me?"
"Though I have never met the man, it's said that he is descended from a highborn Italian nobleman. His title is one of respect." He patted her shoulder. "Please, don't hesitate to send for me if you should ever have need of me."
Analisa slipped the money into her skirt pocket. "Thank you, Doctor."
"Go with God, my dear."
He was a kind man, she thought. He had cared for her day and night, knowing when she arrived that she had no money with which to pay him. She was grateful that the mysterious Alesandro had paid her debt. Grateful and extremely curious. Why would a stranger do such a thing?
She watched Dr. Martinson walk back toward the hospital, her hands nervously worrying the envelope in her hands. She watched him until he was out of sight, then turned and walked down the street, avoiding the shallow puddles left by an early morning rain. Winter was coming. There was a decided chill in the air. Yesterday she'd had nothing, no place to stay, nowhere to go. Last night, steeped in despair over her future, she had tossed and turned, wondering what she would do when she left the hospital. She had never been employed, never lived anywhere but at home with her family.
Her family. They had been happy together in spite of their poverty. Even when food was scarce, when the future looked bleak, Mama and Papa had somehow managed to find something to look forward to, some tiny ray of hope. And now they were gone, Mama, Papa, Thomas and Arthur. Why had she been spared and they had not?
Who was Alesandro Avallone, and why had he offered a penniless stranger the hospitality of his home?
Turning onto a path that led through a small park, she sank down on a wrought-iron bench, the envelope still clutched in her hand. If she had the nerve to accept Lord Avallone's offerЧif he truly meant what his letter saidЧall her troubles would be over, at least for the time being.
She couldn't believe it, didn't dare believe it. Why would this man, this stranger, offer her shelter? Blackbriar Hall. The very name sent a shiver of foreboding down her spine. Even in her small village, they had heard of Blackbriar Hall. A dark, sinister place made of gray stone atop a windswept hill. A place wreathed in mystery and superstition. Some said it was cursed, others that it was haunted.
Taking the money from her pocket, she counted it. The letter had said there was enough to cover transportation and meals, but there was enough for her to live on for many months, if she was frugal.
She sat there a moment, overwhelmed by the generosity of a stranger, and then beset by doubts. Why would Lord Avallone offer her his home? Was it some kind of ploy? But if it was, what could he possibly hope to gain? She had nothing of value, nothing save the shabby clothing she wore and the money he himself had given her.
She looked up as a few fat drops of rain landed on her cheek. There was a crack of lightning, a crash of thunder, and the heavens opened, unleashing a torrent of rain.
Jumping up, she ran toward the carriage stand on the corner and flagged down a passing coach for hire. The driver pulled over, took one look at her ragged apparel and well-worn shoes, and shook his head.
"Not working for charity today." Tugging his cap down, he clucked to the horse.
"Wait!" she called, running after him. "I can pay."
The coachman drew back on the reins. He squinted down at her, his expression skeptical. "Show me."
She withdrew a coin from her pocket and held it up.
With a nod, the driver swung down from his seat and opened the door for her. "Where to, miss?"
"Blackbriar Hall."
He looked at her, his close-set blue eyes widening beneath heavy brown brows. "Are ye daft, girl?"
"Maybe so," she muttered, and climbed into the coach.
It wasn't long before they had left the city far behind. The neat, well-tended roads turned into narrow, winding paths lined by tall trees bent by the storm. The houses grew smaller and further apart until they disappeared altogether and there was nothing to see but rolling countryside and an occasional herd of sheep clustered together against the storm.
Analisa huddled in a corner of the carriage, the lap robe pulled up to her chin, the letter clutched, like a talisman, in her hand. She grew more and more nervous with each mile that passed until, too tired to fight it, fatigue overtook her and she drifted to sleep, her dreams filled with a tall, dark, hooded figure and eyes that glowed like indigo fire.
She awoke with a start as a bright flash of lightning lit the interior of the coach. Thunder raged across the heavens, shaking the ground. She shivered, not so much from the cold, but from a sense of unease. The storm was like none she had ever seen before.
A short time later, the coach came to a halt. She heard a rap on the top of the coach and then the voice of the driver. "There's an inn ahead," he shouted, his voice muffled by the wind. "Will ye be wantin' to stop for the night?"
The thought of staying at an inn, surrounded by strangers, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, filled her with apprehension. "How much farther is it to Blackbriar Hall?"
"About an hour."
"Let's go on then."
"Very well, miss."
She drew the curtains over the windows, then huddled deeper into the lap robe, shivering now as the wind picked up, sneaking through whatever cracks it could find. Belatedly, it occurred to her that she would be among strangers and sleeping in an unfamiliar bed at Blackbriar Hall, too.
She felt a change in the pace of the coach, knew they had begun the long upward climb to Blackbriar Hall. She drew back the curtain and peered out, though there was nothing to see but darkness, nothing to hear but the pounding of the rain on the roof of the coach. She felt a moment of regret for the driver and his horse, comforted herself with the thought that she had the means to pay them well.
A flash of movement caught her eye. Leaning forward, she peered into the darkness, her eyes widening in surprise. Was that a wolf running alongside the coach? A black wolf? A flash of lightning lit the sky, and for a moment, her gaze met the blue eyes of the wolf. She blinked and looked again, but the creature was gone, if indeed it had ever been there. With a shake of her head, she let the curtain fall back into place.
As they neared the top of the hill, a gray mist rose from the ground, floating around the coach like smoke. The road leveled out, widened, ran between a forest of ancient oaks and elms twisted into strange shapes by the wind.
And then, in a burst of lightning, she saw the house, standing dark and sinister in the midst of the storm. Gargoyles leered down at her; tall, arched windows, black in the night, stared at her like sightless eyes.
The coach came to a halt. A moment later, the driver jumped down and opened the door. "We're here, miss," he said, a shiver in his voice that had nothing to do with the chill of the night. "Blackbriar Hall."
She paid him his fare plus a generous tip, then climbed out of the coach and ran up the thirteen stone steps to the front door. Thirteen, she thought. Unlucky. She stood there a moment, shaking the rain from her hair and wondering if she shouldn't climb back into the coach and return to the city, but when she looked over her shoulder, she saw that the coach was already on its way back down the path.
Taking a deep breath, she prayed for courage as she turned back toward the door. It was an impressive entrance. The door was at least ten feet high. The head of a snarling wolf was carved into the heavy dark wood. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, and then knocked again. Was no one home? She shivered as the wind picked up, its icy fingers creeping up her legs.
A moment later, the massive front door swung open, revealing a tall, regal-looking woman clad in a severe high-necked black dress. Her hair, once brown but now mostly gray, was pulled into a loose chignon at her nape.
Raising her lamp higher, the woman regarded Analisa through narrowed gray eyes. "Miss Matthews?"
"Yes."
"Come in," the woman said. The keys at her waist made a tinkling sound as she took a step back to allow Analisa entrance to the house. "We have been expecting you."
Analisa followed the woman down a marble hallway into a large parlor.
The woman set her lamp on a polished hardwood table, gestured toward a curved sofa covered in rich dark green damask.