The Girl in the Scrapbook Carolyn Ruffles (read an ebook week txt) 📖

Now they were married and Adele’s true colours had been well and truly revealed. She was a nagging, whining woman. Her lips were constantly pursed in a disapproving pout whenever she spoke to Norah and, increasingly, when she spoke to George. Consequently, George was choosing to spend more and more of his time outside and many of his evenings down at The Fox and Hare. This in turn provoked many a sermon from his wife on the dangers of alcohol and eulogies for her abstemious late husband.

Whilst her new stepmother was bad enough, Norah also found it impossible to like her new stepsister. When Hope had first moved in, she complained every morning of the sleepless night she had spent in her bedroom, which was much smaller than Norah’s and directly above the kitchen. She demanded that Norah should give up her own bedroom as an act of Christian charity. When Norah refused, she'd wept bitter tears to her mother and claimed she was becoming unwell through lack of sleep. Adele had spoken to George of the matter and berated him for the selfishness of his daughter but George refused to get involved.

‘It’s always been Norah’s room,’ he said quietly. ‘She shouldn’t have to swap with Hope unless she wants to.’

The women had been outraged but George had refused to budge on the subject and Norah refused to give up her bedroom so that was the end of the matter. At least, that was what Norah had thought. Unfortunately, though, Hope was not prepared to overlook this thwarting of her own desires and Norah found herself victim of a continual stream of spiteful acts.

First, she discovered that the final pages had been torn out of a book she was reading. Then, on the occasion of her sixteenth birthday, she went to put on her best dress only to find it had mysterious blotches all over it. Most recently, she found that her silver locket, given to her by her mother, had disappeared from her jewellery box. When she'd questioned Hope, the younger girl had rushed to her mother weeping that she had been wrongly accused and how could anyone believe such a thing of her. Even George, who by now was growing used to Hope’s tirades, could not entertain the notion that she'd taken the locket out of spite. On this occasion, he'd sided against Norah and told her she needed to apologise. Norah did so and noticed the ill-concealed glint of triumph beneath Hope’s false tears.

After that, she made sure she hid anything of value to her and nothing else had disappeared from her room. However, Hope would still make up tales about Norah in her attempts to turn others against her. Just that morning, Norah had overheard her telling the maid Elsie that Norah had said she was fat and looked like a meringue in her new dress. It had just enough of the ring of truth about it to convince Elsie and Norah heard her consoling the sobbing girl.

‘You look beautiful in that dress, Miss Hope. She’s probably jealous that she doesn’t fill her dresses as well as you. Come now, don’t fret so. Mrs Morris has been baking scones and they’re still warm. Come down to the kitchen. One of them, with some butter and strawberry jam, will cheer you up.’

Hope had allowed herself to be led, like a martyr, to the kitchen where she'd then regaled Mrs Morris with the same story and Norah had since found herself on the receiving end of disapproving glances from both the servants, whom she'd always regarded as her friends.

Now it was almost time for dinner. Sighing heavily, Norah changed out of her riding breeches and into a skirt. Since her arrival, the new Mrs Dunn had insisted that they all change for dinner and then collect in the drawing room while they waited for the evening meal to be announced. Norah couldn't see the point of it when there was just the four of them but, apparently, ladies in decent society always dressed for dinner and she knew it wasn't worth arguing. She'd already learnt that, where Adele was concerned, she needed to choose her battles carefully.

She was last into the drawing room and crossed over to the window where her father was standing, morosely looking out over the rose garden. It had been a good year for the roses but now the bushes had received their autumn pruning and were looking sadly bare and forlorn.

‘Have you seen Arthur today, Daddy?’ she asked. ‘He wasn’t round the stables when I went down earlier and I wanted to ask him about Trojan’s leg. There seemed to be a little heat in his near foreleg when I’d ridden him today and I wanted his opinion. He’s not lame or anything,’ she continued, ‘but he always seems to know what to do for the best.’

‘He’s been out ploughing all day,’ replied her father grimly. ‘He’s no time at the moment to be fussing about the horses unless they’re pulling the plough.’

‘I realise that. I know how busy it is this time of year. I just wanted his opinion, that’s all.’

George did not reply and Norah turned away. He obviously had things on his mind, she thought, and it would not do to trouble him.

‘Oh Norah, I do wish you would make more of an effort with your appearance!’ Adele’s shrill voice cut through the chilly evening air. ‘I swear it looks as if you haven’t even taken a brush to that hair of yours. Look at Hope. See how beautiful she looks this evening! Of course, she would look lovely, no matter what she was wearing, but that new dress is particularly becoming.’

Norah surveyed Hope’s attire and remembered her stepsister’s earlier meringue reference. Privately, she thought she looked more like a blancmange than a meringue. She was dressed in shiny, pink satin which quivered as she preened at her mother’s praise.

‘Very nice,’ she said politely. ‘I wonder what’s for dinner.