in her grip. She started for the door to her chamber, then stopped, turning toward the door that connected her chamber with Daniel’s. Heart pounding, she moved toward the door and reached up over the jam for the brass key. She transferred the candy to her left hand and, sticky fingered, unlocked the door with her right. The lock protested with a loud screech. He would know she was coming.
The rest of her was shaking with her hand as she pushed the door open. Daniel was standing at the side of his bed, green-satin dressing gown obviously thrown on in haste, hair tousled. “Cynthia, is anything wrong?”
Wordlessly, she held out the candy to him, lettering first.
“Oh.” He smiled sheepishly. “You found it. You had said you liked it best. I hope you don’t mind.”
Cynthia swallowed, feeling the lingering taste of the sweet on the back of her tongue. “Do you know what it says?”
He nodded, standing a little taller. “Yes. I asked the candy maker to put in the words. The candy is special, you know. No matter how long you lick it, the words will still show. And it will say ‘I love you’ until the very end, just as I will.”
The stick fell to the ground as Cynthia cast herself into his arms. Daniel hugged her close, finding her mouth once again so near to his. She tasted of the candy, and more.
And that night they both learned that Adam was wrong. There was indeed something in life far sweeter than candy.
_____________
A Place by the Fire
Chapter One
Miss Eleanor Pritchett, teacher of literature at the Barnsley School for Young Ladies, slid into place along the wall of the head mistress’ office, tucking her light brown hair up into the black cap all the teachers wore. She had never liked the shapeless black bombazine uniform of the school staff, but now she was thankful for the way it hid the fact that her slender chest was heaving after her dash from the second story. As it was, Eleanor arrived just in time to hear Miss Martingale’s nasal voice proclaim, “What is this creature?”
So it was true. Dottie had been caught with the kitten. Eleanor knew she should have dissuaded the farmer who brought the eggs from giving the tiny bundle of fur to the girl, but the gleam in Dottie’s dark eyes had been too precious to waste. Wincing at the thought of the consequences of that act, Eleanor slipped a little farther along the back wall until she bumped into the quivering form of the school’s new art teacher. A quick look at Miss Lurkin’s pale, narrow face confirmed Eleanor’s suspicions about who had had the misfortune of finding the kitten and the lack of foresight to keep from mentioning it to Miss Martingale.
From her new position, Eleanor could see around the two high-backed leather chairs that stood in front of the massive, claw-foot walnut desk. Dottie stood between chairs and desk, her black mourning gown of fine silk making her look thinner and more fragile than usual. Behind the desk, Miss Martingale’s considerable bulk was trembling with ill-suppressed indignation, one gloved hand holding aloft a small, squirming black kitten, who hissed with equal indignation.
“I believe you have been taught to answer when spoken to by your elders,” Miss Martingale said sharply. “But I shall repeat myself just this once. What is this creature?”
Dottie raised her head to meet the outraged head mistress’ gaze, and Eleanor had to stifle a shout of triumph. For once determination blazed from those chocolate eyes. Since returning to the school three months ago, the girl had never looked more like a daughter of a peer than at that moment. All this furor would be worth it if it brought the child out of the unresponsive cocoon she had built around herself since her parents had been killed in a boating accident in Naples.
Miss Lurkin obviously didn’t have the stomach for the tension that coiled through the room. “It’s a cat,” she burst out, then, as Miss Martingale’s cold
The rest of her was shaking with her hand as she pushed the door open. Daniel was standing at the side of his bed, green-satin dressing gown obviously thrown on in haste, hair tousled. “Cynthia, is anything wrong?”
Wordlessly, she held out the candy to him, lettering first.
“Oh.” He smiled sheepishly. “You found it. You had said you liked it best. I hope you don’t mind.”
Cynthia swallowed, feeling the lingering taste of the sweet on the back of her tongue. “Do you know what it says?”
He nodded, standing a little taller. “Yes. I asked the candy maker to put in the words. The candy is special, you know. No matter how long you lick it, the words will still show. And it will say ‘I love you’ until the very end, just as I will.”
The stick fell to the ground as Cynthia cast herself into his arms. Daniel hugged her close, finding her mouth once again so near to his. She tasted of the candy, and more.
And that night they both learned that Adam was wrong. There was indeed something in life far sweeter than candy.
_____________
A Place by the Fire
Chapter One
Miss Eleanor Pritchett, teacher of literature at the Barnsley School for Young Ladies, slid into place along the wall of the head mistress’ office, tucking her light brown hair up into the black cap all the teachers wore. She had never liked the shapeless black bombazine uniform of the school staff, but now she was thankful for the way it hid the fact that her slender chest was heaving after her dash from the second story. As it was, Eleanor arrived just in time to hear Miss Martingale’s nasal voice proclaim, “What is this creature?”
So it was true. Dottie had been caught with the kitten. Eleanor knew she should have dissuaded the farmer who brought the eggs from giving the tiny bundle of fur to the girl, but the gleam in Dottie’s dark eyes had been too precious to waste. Wincing at the thought of the consequences of that act, Eleanor slipped a little farther along the back wall until she bumped into the quivering form of the school’s new art teacher. A quick look at Miss Lurkin’s pale, narrow face confirmed Eleanor’s suspicions about who had had the misfortune of finding the kitten and the lack of foresight to keep from mentioning it to Miss Martingale.
From her new position, Eleanor could see around the two high-backed leather chairs that stood in front of the massive, claw-foot walnut desk. Dottie stood between chairs and desk, her black mourning gown of fine silk making her look thinner and more fragile than usual. Behind the desk, Miss Martingale’s considerable bulk was trembling with ill-suppressed indignation, one gloved hand holding aloft a small, squirming black kitten, who hissed with equal indignation.
“I believe you have been taught to answer when spoken to by your elders,” Miss Martingale said sharply. “But I shall repeat myself just this once. What is this creature?”
Dottie raised her head to meet the outraged head mistress’ gaze, and Eleanor had to stifle a shout of triumph. For once determination blazed from those chocolate eyes. Since returning to the school three months ago, the girl had never looked more like a daughter of a peer than at that moment. All this furor would be worth it if it brought the child out of the unresponsive cocoon she had built around herself since her parents had been killed in a boating accident in Naples.
Miss Lurkin obviously didn’t have the stomach for the tension that coiled through the room. “It’s a cat,” she burst out, then, as Miss Martingale’s cold
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